Lord of the Rings: the Tower of Madness
by ermalope
Summary: A fellowship of NINE goes to Mordor to dispose of an evil ring. Except Aragorn is throwing things again.
1. In Which Gandalf Causes Trouble

**Co-written by annoyingtalkinganimal (aka ATA). Co-blame us both for this.**

**WARNING!**_Now, as it has been pointed out by a cherished reviewer, we are morons. While we both were already aware of this, we feel it is important to warn you that this is mostly, especially in the early chapters, a just-for-fun parody. Concerning Tolkien, the two of us are rather irreverent. __**HAVING SAID THAT**__, in later chapters there may be some pretty substantial stuff going on. __**EVEN SOME ROMANCE! **__Especially when the ladies show up, about nine chapters in._

**The Brilliant and Very Lengthy Prequel**

In a hole there lived a hobbit. In another hole there lived a craaaal. It would soon be eating hobbit for dinner.

**The First Chapter, In Which Bilbo Dies and Frodo Cries and Samwise Lies and Pippin Sighs and Merry Buys and Smeagol… er… Laughs**

It was a warm summer morning in Hobbiton, and all of the hobbits were going about their daily business.

"Let's drink and smoke!" shouted a random hobbit.

"Not before second breakfast!" his wife called sternly back.

Old and irritable Bilbo Baggins was sitting on a stool at a small desk, writing a story about dragons and other nonsense creatures. He was reading aloud as he wrote like so: "Concerning hobbits… hobbits like food… hobbits like drinks… hobbits are the best…." It was not perhaps the most engaging of works, but then, no one had ever set out to write about Hobbits before, except perhaps Dalin, son of Dorkin, son of Lothlanderson, and his book was called "That One Time I Ran Over What I Thought was a Child But What Turned Out to Actually be a Hobbit when I was Chariot Racing near the Galloping Cow Pub" and therefore, Bilbo's efforts were very likely to become highly celebrated once he had finished.

His writing juices were really flowing, but he was interrupted when someone knocked on the door.

"FRODO! THE DOOR!" he commanded lazily before returning to his dismal book. The knock came again. "FRODO! GET THE DOOR!" he called again, but there was no answer. The visitor knocked for the third time. Bilbo set his quill down with an audible smack.

"FRODO! GET THE BLOODY DOOR! WHAT DO I PAY YOU FOR ANYWAY? BLOODY USELESS ORPHANS! ALL I EVER DO IS _FEED_ AND _CLOTH_ YOU OUT OF THE GOODNESS OF MINE OWN HEART, BUT ANSWERING THE DOOR FOR YOUR DECREPIT UNCLE IS APPARENTLY TOO MUCH TO ASK!" he bellowed.

Still, there was no sign that Frodo would obey his Uncle's orders. Finally, Bilbo, grumbling thoroughly, stumped to the round door, opened it, and saw a very old wizard wearing a pointy hat standing in front of him.

"I don't want any," he declared, and slammed the door shut.

A muffled voice complained, "But I'm a very old friend!"

"GAH! It's Gandalf!" He wrenched the door open and pulled the wizard inside.

"You're just in time for second breakfast!" he explained. He sat Gandalf in a short chair and hustled to the kitchen. "Do you want eggs?"

"Tea is fine, thank you."

"Crumpets?"

"Tea is fine, thank you."

"Toast?"

"Just tea, thanks."

"Freshly baked strawberry cake?"

"Tea is fine, thank you."

"What's wrong with you? You must want _something_ to eat!"

"Tea would be lovely, thank you."

"Oh, all right," Bilbo sighed, before bringing all of the above food items anyway. Gandalf raised an eyebrow.

"So… what are you doing here?" Bilbo asked bluntly.

"I came to tell Frodo that the ring of power that you bestowed upon him last year is evil and that he must embark on a life-threatening journey at his earliest convenience."

"How nice," Bilbo said indifferently.

Just then, the craaaal burst through the door. It looked around, saliva dripping in threatening globs from its chops. It made a beeline for Bilbo and chomped him to pieces. The craaaal was finished eating in three minutes. It slithered away quietly, leaving no sign of its presence.

Gandalf stared. "That settles it. I'm giving up pipe-weed," he declared.

Frodo then burst through the door. "Oh… Bilbo's dead. HI GANDALF!"

The funeral was beautiful, although guests kept fainting when they peered into the casket. The only parts of Bilbo that the craaaal had left were very bloody. And very inappropriate. Craaaals are picky.

"Frodo," Gandalf whispered to Frodo as the Hobbit choir honked out a song about growing shrubs in Hobbit Heaven, "I have to tell you something incredibly important. Bilbo's ring – it is – but, alas, I cannot speak these words aloud, especially not within Hobbiton. Nonetheless, it is imperative that you take the ring. Take the ring that Bilbo gave you last year because he was too lazy to buy you a proper birthday present. You must take it, do you understand? And you must go. Go far, far away, where you will never be found, and live in seclusion for all of your days."

Frodo stared at him. "Uh, well, as fun as that sounds, I was kind of planning to, uh, not, uh… live in seclusion for the rest of my life."

"Yes, that's good, I knew you were the Hobbit to trust with this. It's _very_ important. Your sacrifice will save millions of innocents all over Middle Earth. Okay, I'm out."

"Wait, Gandalf, I wasn't -" Frodo hissed as Gandalf exited the pew. But the grey wizard said nothing more. He got as far as the woods, and then took a wrong turn and fell off a rather large cliff. His piercing scream interrupted the abnormally long shrub-planting song. The Hobbits all began muttering in panic and confusion to each other.

"What was that?" asked Pippin, rather loudly and unconcernedly, from right behind Frodo's head.

"Your guess is as good as mine, Pip," said Merry, who was sitting next to Pippin, as he bit flippantly into an apple.

"Guys, be quiet, this is Frodo's Uncle Bilbo's funeral. Show some respect," Sam muttered from behind both of them and he glared at the two trouble makers.

"Look, I wasn't the one who screamed out there," Merry spewed, along with partially chewed chunks of apple.

"It sounded kind of like Gandalf," Frodo said thoughtfully. "Come on, let's go check it out."

The four crept from the panicked funeral parlour and bustled and bumbled in the direction of the scream, Sam lecturing Merry and Pippin all the way. When they reached it, Frodo had to fling out both arms to stop the lot of them from tumbling off the cliff as they were hardly paying attention to where they were stepping.

"Well I'll be," Sam said, awed. The four hobbits peered over the edge, and could still make out Gandalf the Grey falling magnificently to his doom.

"Oh, Mr. Frodo, I'm so sorry!" squeaked Sam, glancing hurriedly at the lad. "Losing your uncle and your… wizard, all in one day! It must be awful! You'll probably not feel better for years!"

"Thanks, Sam," Frodo snapped.

Merry nodded good-naturedly at the falling body and took another bite of apple. "So, what do you want to do now?"

"Some pipe-weed, I think. Pipe-weed'd be good," Pippin said, nodding intelligently.

"Oh, yes, that would be good -" Merry began, but Sam interrupted him.

"No, guys, we should do something actually important," he declared. "Frodo, what do you think we should do?"

Frodo looked from Merry and Pippin to Sam and pondered. "Well, Gandalf told me to take Bilbo's ring far away and live the rest of my life in seclusion. That sounded kind of important."

"Ugh, dull. I vote pipe-weed," Merry said.

Sam smacked him. "No, come on, let's go get the ring. In honour of Gandalf."

Groaning, Merry and Pippin led Sam and Frodo back into the church to retrieve the cherished piece of jewellery. The ring was to be buried with Bilbo, and currently sat between two questionable hunks of flesh.

The four young hobbits crept up to the casket, reached in and…

"AHH!" shrieked Pippin.

"WHAT?" asked Merry wildly.

"Nothing. I thought something dramatic should happen, that's all," Pippin told him unconcernedly.

"You are a moron," Sam told him seriously.

So. They took it.

"Now what?" asked Merry. "And don't say 'Let's go take it and live in seclusion.' I'm not doing that, that's lame."

"Hey, I have an idea! Let's go inside and throw it out the window," Pippin suggested.

"That idea's so crazy, it might actually work!" Merry yelled joyously.

"What do you mean, 'it might actually work'?" Sam asked, confused.

"I mean it might actually work! Come on, Sam Gamgee, live a little for once!"

Now it was Sam's turn to grumble as the hobbits went inside and threw the ring out the window. It smashed through the flimsy Hobbit-glass and landed in a patch of dry grass.

"Why is there a patch of dry grass on our lawn?" Frodo asked, looking at Sam. "It's the wet season!"

"Sorry," mumbled Sam.

All of a sudden, the twenty-pound ring came flying back through the glass. Frodo stared at the hole in the window. "That's a little weird," he pointed out.

"Yes… very," added Sam.

"HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!" laughed Smeagol's far away voice. "You call this torture?"

"… What was that?" Pippin asked uneasily.

"Why can we hear people's voices when they're kind of far away?" asked Merry, equally uneasily.

"I'll give you a hint! First word, five letters, second word, seven letters. First word starts with…? Oh, never mind, you'll never guess. You're just monstrous creations made to serve one not very interesting plot structure purpose. It's 'Shire' and 'Baggins'. Start looking, fools."

"Hey, that's me!" Pippin said, alarmed.

"No, idiot, it's Frodo!" Sam shrieked.

"Okay, you know what? I'll even give you directions to tell your wraithy masters. You go west a ways… and then a little to the south. Turn right at the Galloping Cow. Find the hobbit hole with arrogant, badly-phrased narration emitting from it and you'll have him," came the voice again.

"GET ON THE PONY!" yelled Sam.

Frodo leapt on old Bill. Then Sam leapt on behind him.

The pony sagged under the weight.

Merry and Pippin joined them. Now the pony could barely move at all, so they all got off the pony with the exception of Frodo.

Suddenly, Black Riders were chasing them.

"HOW did those things get here so fast?" asked Sam angrily.

"We rode. From Mordor." A Black Rider gestured at a huge, black gate about fifty yards to the right of them.

"Oh. I've always wondered what that was," said Pippin.

"THE BUCKLEBERRY FERRY! It's our only hope!" yelled Merry.

They rode to a plank of wood, on to which they jumped (Bill took a little convincing).

"Why aren't we moving?" Pippin asked, very confused.

"Because we're not in water, stupid!"

"It was your idea to jump on a raft in the first place!"

"I meant the raft that was IN THE WATER!" Merry yelled.

So they dragged the Buckleberry Ferry to the water, and now, instead of jumping on the raft, the riders decided to go all the way around the Ocean. Which was stupid, really, considering the hobbits were traveling across a pond.


	2. In Which Elrond Holds a Council

The four young hobbits decided to improvise. They were, of course, being chased by unintelligent but menacing riders, and in the memory of their friend Gandalf they decided to at least find some unsuspecting wood-hermit to dump the ring on.

Their determination was indeed inspiring. But after about fifteen minutes…

"The Galloping Cow!" shouted Pippin.

"C'mon, let's get smashed." Merry said gleefully.

"Wait, no, stop – GUYS!" Frodo bellowed. Sam, halfway towards the pub within seconds, despite his frequent and loud complaints of chronic soreness of the joints and leg muscles, looked at Frodo guiltily. The other two were not shame-faced at all.

Merry said, "Frodo, it's the Galloping Cow. There's food, alcohol and most likely some pipe-weed in there!"

Frodo pondered for a moment. "Well, I was going to say that we have a great responsibility to Dear Gandalf's memory and to all hobbits as we venture into the wilderness so we had better be on our best and most sensible behaviour… But I suppose getting crazy drunk would be sort of the same thing."

"Yes!" Pippin cheered, and the four morons dashed inside.

It wasn't long before they were noticed. They downed pints upon pints of ale and smoked the Galloping Cow's owner out of pipe-weed. A dark, suspicious looking man peered at them from across the pub as they danced to uproarious applause on the tables. Thugs and bandits of every kind cheered on the drunken Hobbits.

The suspicious man's eyes narrowed.

They woke up the next morning with splitting headaches and lumps the size of grapefruits on their foreheads. In the middle of the woods.

Pippin was dismayed. "What about breakfast?" he asked, confused.

"That must have been a good night," Merry said, ignoring Pippin and rubbing the sizable lump on his forehead. "I don't remember getting here."

"Yeah, the last thing I remember is that weird suspicious guy knocking us all out with a chair leg," Sam moaned.

The three other hobbits stared at him.

"What?" yelped Frodo.

"Yes. I hit you all over the heads with a chair leg." The man had just strode out from a thick patch of trees with a doe draped over his shoulder.

Pippin vomited. "I'm not eating that for breakfast!" he shrieked. "I won't eat an innocent animal and thusly I shall surely STARVE TO DEATH!"

"Look, you can't just stride out of the woods with a dead animal over your shoulder and expect us to not beat you to death in our Hobbit rage!" Merry roared.

The man raised an eyebrow. "I saved your lives," he said sternly.

"You can't just stride out of the woods and tell us you saved our lives and expect us to believe you right after you told us you knocked us out with a chair leg after striding out of the woods with a dead animal on your shoulder!" Merry declared. "What's your name, anyway?"

"Strider."

"Oh, LOL," Merry said sarcastically.

"Okay, look. You're vegetarians? Fine. I'll eat this myself and refrain from hunting for the remaining duration of our journey, and you won't starve. You can have the multitude of fruit I gathered earlier, and the bread I bought before leaving town. I should point out that I sent your poor little pony home safely, so there you go, animal welfare and all that wot. You're mad that I knocked you out? Fine. But you were acting like idiots, drawing attention to yourselves like that in the Galloping Cow, what's the matter with you? Have you no self control? Especially when you have the ring of power on you, and four Black Riders chasing you down. Though they apparently took a wrong turn at Fiji."

The hobbits gasped.

"Yes, I know about the ring and your tale. I'm a friend of Gandalf's. I'm here to take you and your ring to Rivendell, where it will be safe, and you four morons can go back to the Shire and stop leading the Black Riders to their sinister goal."

There was silence for a long time. They ate, and then they followed Strider as he picked an ingenious path through the forest.

"But guys, seriously, what about breakfast?" Pippin hissed.

"We've had it already," Sam hissed, rather shame-faced after Strider's lecture in the morning.

"But what about second breakfast?"

"Ugh, stop thinking about your stomach," Sam complained.

Not to be deterred, Pippin stayed up all of that next night cooking tomatoes over a bright red fire.

Strider hadn't mentioned that it wasn't a good idea to build a bright red fire… likely because he thought it went without saying. Alas. The Ring Wraiths were able to find them.

"Whassamatter?" grumbled Merry as Pippin shook him awake in panic. Sam slapped a pillow over his ears. Only Frodo leapt up immediately, sensing the ring's excitement at the close proximity of its slaves.

"Baginsssssssssssssssssssssss," hissed a particularly empty-hooded wraith, reaching for Frodo.

This woke the others up, and Merry, Pippin and Sam stood protectively in front of Frodo. But it was common knowledge – the Ring Wraiths were highly skilled at pushing hobbits out of the way. Merry, Pippin and Sam were thrown into heaps of hobbit, and Frodo was left utterly alone.

He backed away and tripped.

"Figures," stated Merry dully.

"Eeeeek!" screamed Frodo as a Ring Wraith advanced slowly.

Suddenly, Frodo had an idea. It was not a very bright idea. But it was an idea. He put the ring on.

"Wow, Frodo, you sure know how to stand up for yourself," Pippin said sarcastically to Frodo, but Frodo wasn't there.

For the tiny hobbit had been transferred to wraith-land. It was a windy parallel universe in which all wraiths could see – and Frodo had just entered.

Oops.

"Hello, my dear," screeched the biggest wraith of all.

"Uh, hi?" Frodo said tentatively.

And so the wraith stabbed Frodo.

But then, Strider arrived. "Yeeee-haw!" cried the man, in the greatest show of emotion since the Hobbits had met him. "Lookee what I got, wraithies!" He held a torch in his hands.

The wraiths stared at the flames for a moment, and then took off screaming.

"Strider! They stabbed Frodo!" Sam cried.

"Oh no, he is bleeding profusely from his heart," Merry said sadly, removing his hat.

"Hey, where'd you get the hat?" asked Pippin.

"Over there," Merry pointed at a small hat stand.

"Be right back," Pippin muttered.

Strider gazed at the two hobbits for a second, sighing. Finally he spoke. "Okay… Frodo is not mortally wounded – but a piece of the blade is now traveling towards his heart. When it gets there, he will become a wraith as well. We must go to the elves, they can heal this."

After a perilous journey of about four feet to the right of them, they had arrived at Rivendell, the home of the elves. Elrond was the master elf, and was able to heal Frodo because he was good at healing, among other things. His talent for council-holding was also renowned far and wide.

Meanwhile, Gandalf was not quite dead. He was lying in some dirt when Saruman the white found him.

Saruman arrived to his tower late in the evening. A passing orc said, "Hey, what's with the corpse?"

"This is a fellow wizard and friend," Saruman explained dangerously. "And he is not quite dead. Revive him."

When Gandalf had been sufficiently revived, he looked up at Saruman. "Saruman? What am I doing on the floor?"

"What? You're on the floor?" Saruman asked furiously, looking at Gandalf for the first time since instructing the orcs to revive him. "Put him upright, you imbeciles!"

"Whoops," the orcs muttered.

"Wait - Why do you have orcs in your tower?" Gandalf puzzled.

"What? I have orcs in my tower? Damn!" Saruman said in a rather unconvincing surprised tone. With that he killed every orc in the room. "How on earth did they get in here?"

"Oh Great One? Palantir's ringing," another orc said, stepping in through the door.

Gandalf stared at his former friend.

"Er…" Saruman stammered.

"Holy Mother of All That's Good! You're – Saruman! You have allied yourself with Sauron!" Gandalf exclaimed angrily, wielding his staff.

"No, no no no I haven't!" Saruman laughed quickly. "Sauron is looking for the one ring; I'm just, uh, being contrary."

"Shall I put it on speaker?" the orc asked. Without waiting for an answer, he did, and sound burst from the shiny glass orb.

"SARUMAN! IT'S SAURON! HAVE YOU FINISHED BUILDING AN ARMY OF MUTANT ORC-MEN SO THAT I CAN TAKE OVER MIDDLE EARTH AND FIND MY BELOVED RING AGAIN OR WHAT? I'M GETTING FRUSTRATED!"

Gandalf stared pointedly at Saruman, and then went to leave.

"Oh no you don't!" Saruman yelled. Every door slammed shut, and Gandalf was sent flying to the top of the tower, staffless.

"Oww," moaned Gandalf once he had crashed through the thick ceiling. "Damn you, Saruman, look at this, I'm dying. Thanks a lot, you jerk." Gandalf yelled. He fell back onto the stone and died.

"You're welcome," Saruman answered unconcernedly from down below.

A moment passed.

"What the - " Gandalf exclaimed. "I thought I died." But you see, Gandalf had been returned to Middle Earth, for he had not completed his task. A legion of fantasy heros including Aslan, Harry Potter, and Jesus nodded wisely.

The newly healed Frodo was lounging by a clear Elven pool with Merry when he was unceremoniously summoned. "Frodo! You've been summoned to a council," bellowed Strider.

"Thanks Strider, or can I call you Aragorn, or maybe Elessar, or –" Frodo said teasingly while Merry chuckled, having just discovered the true, many-named identity of Strider. Aragorn, as he preferred to be called, rolled his eyes at him, seized him by the front of his tunic, and threw him across Elrond's yard and into one of the chairs at the council.

"Okay, everybody. I find these things work a lot better when everyone knows everyone else by name, so let's go around in a circle and introduce ourselves!" Elrond declared in a cheerful though stately way. Seated at Elrond's right, in a place of distinct honour, a young, brazen-looking man rolled his eyes. "I'll start. I'm Elrond and I like councils and healing," said Elrond.

"I'm Aragorn/Strider/Elessar/Dunedein/Bob," Aragorn said from his left, looking moody.

A few random men and elves introduced themselves, some with impressive credentials added in behind their names. Eventually, it was Frodo's turn. He sat directly across from Elrond, and he said uncomfortably, "Uh, hi!" everyone was staring at him. "Um, I'm Frodo, nice to meet you. I, uh, like to watch clouds and find interesting shapes in them. And I like cake. Especially with fresh strawberries." And then he felt like a prize moron.

There was silence for a while. Then the tall, graceful elf seated beside Frodo said, "I like cake too. Every twenty years or so. And strawberries are delicious." Frodo felt a tad better. "I'm Legolas, son of Tharanduil, representing the elves of the Woodland Realm and I'd just like to say that I'm thoroughly unimpressed with the entire dwarf race. They dig, dig, dig, dig, dig, dig, dig, in a mine the whole day through, and they contribute nothing of true worth to society."

"Thank you, Legolas, that was helpful," Elrond muttered.

The legion of dwarves to Legolas's left glared. The one seated right next to Legolas said, "I'm Gimli son of Gloin and I for one think that long-haired, blond, twiggy, flower-smelling elves should shut up about things they couldn't possibly know anything about."

"Thank you, Gimli. I can see that this will be a successful meeting. If you please, sir," Elrond said, shifting uncomfortably and nodding to Gimli's friend to his left. The rest of the dwarves present gruffly introduced themselves.

"I'm Boromir, son of Denethor, from Gondor, and I'd just like to say that I like both elves and dwarves. But dwarves are more fun to drink with," Boromir, the brazen young man from Elrond's immediate right said, smiling unconcernedly at Legolas and Gimli.

"Thank you, everyone," said Elrond. "Now to the substance of our discussion. What to do with the One Ring."

It sat on a round stone slab in the middle of the council members. Everyone shivered a little bit with Elrond declared its name aloud. And then the arguing ensued.

"Are we even sure that's the Ring of Power? It looks a bit like the one I gave my ex-wife. Maybe her evil seeped into it and we're mistaken."

"I put it in the fire myself, and sure enough the inscription appeared."

"Yeah, but still. She might have done that as a joke. She was messed up."

"This is an evil entity, and the sooner it is destroyed the better for all of us! The longer we sit around talking about it the worse off everyone will be!"

"No! Absolutely not! This is a mighty gift! It can be used to fight our common enemy."

"It cannot! It won't work for anyone but Sauron!"

"No, it's telling me right now in my head that I can use it to save Gondor!"

"Let me destroy it with my axe!"

"You fool. Your silly dwarf-axe can't possibly be effective against the ring of power!"

"Shut up, pretty boy, let the real men take care of business."

"You're an idiot. And you're not even a man."

"Gimli, no!"

_Swish_, crack, ZING!

"Owww."

"What did I tell you, idiot?"

"The ring cannot be destroyed by an axe, young dwarf. It can only be destroyed in the fires of Mount Doom. In Mordor.

"Oh come on. One does not simply sally on in to Mordor! It's a fool's errand! Just give me the ring, I'll use it for good!"

"Let's hide the ring in the deepest, darkest hole we can find."

"We dwarves know many of those."

"Oh, yeah, like anyone would trust a selfish dwarf with hiding the ring of power."

"Legolas, check your bitterness, please, it's unbecoming on one as graceful as you."

"Oh, come on, Lord Elrond. Would you honestly trust a dwarf with the one ring?"

"This discussion is irrelevant –"

"You know what? I think elves are useless for everything except wall decorations."

"Gimli, that was unnecessary."

"Your face is unnecessary."

"Okay, you tiny piece of vermin, get over here!"

"No, Lord Elrond, calm down, we have important things to discuss."

"I told you dwarves sucked."

"Pretty boy."

"Greedy idiot."

"Okay, okay, I'm fine, stop fussing. Let us return to deciding what to do with the One Ring."

"Let's go inside and throw it out the window!"

"That idea's so crazy, it might actually work!"

"What do you mean, 'it might actually work'?"

"Who the hell are they?"

"Oh, no one, no one. Get out of here before I stab you, you unbelievable little morons!"

"Elrond, this Council is a joke. Even these simple, idiotic Hobbits are allowed to posit their opinions! I think we're decided. I'll take the ring to Gondor."

"Shut up, Boromir."

"Shut up yourself, insignificant Ranger."

"I'm the heir to your throne, you arrogant prick."

"My… my Council is NOT a joke! My Councils are never a joke!"

"Lord Elrond, ignore him, he's an idiot."

"_You_ are the heir? Wow, I think I'll sell my citizenship the day of your coronation."

"Can we get back to the point? The Ring must be destroyed!"

"Oh sure. But you, really? I can't get over this. You're dishevelled. You must have gone weeks without bathing."

"STOP elbowing me!"

"Well, you're breathing on me!"

"I am not! That's called the wind, but I guess you wouldn't know that since you live in a hole. OW!"

"And that's called my fist, and now you're acquainted."

"I'm swiftly losing my elven composure, Lord Elrond, I may soon commit dwarvicide."

"Oh, I'd like to see you try!"

"I wish I was back at the Galloping Cow."

"I hear you."

"I WILL TAKE IT! I WILL TAKE THE RING TO MORDOR!"

Everyone was staring at Frodo again. He suddenly felt rather less than determined with all of the great faces looking at him.

"… Seriously?" Elrond said.

Aragorn sighed, but smiled at Frodo encouragingly. "I will go with you. If by my life or death I can protect you, I will."

Boromir was staring from Frodo to Aragorn and back. "Uh, wait. _I'll_ go too. Gondor needs a real representative on this mission. I want to see that it gets done properly."

Aragorn frowned, but said to Frodo, "You have my sword."

"And you have my bow," Legolas declared, rubbing his injured eye. Gimli glared at him.

"And MY AXE!" he shrieked. Flocks of birds took to the skies, startled.

"Thank you," Frodo spluttered into the shocked silence that followed the outburst.

"Well, we're going too!" Merry said matter-of-factly.

"They probably have some awesome pipe-weed in Mordor!" Pippin said gleefully.

"I'd like to see the world. I guess," Sam said sheepishly, smiling at Frodo.

So then a group of nine set out from Rivendell.

We know what you're thinking. There are only eight.

Shhh. It's a conspiracy.

Meanwhile, Gandalf was sitting on the cold hard stone of the Ivory Tower's roof, playing with a moth.

"Heeeeeeeeeeere, moth moth mothy!" he crooned. "Oh, I have an idea. Fetch me some eagles," Gandalf told the moth. The moth flew away.

"Gee, if it weren't for kind folk like him, I'd have to climb down the ladder," Gandalf said happily, glancing at an elegant ladder a few feet from him that led all the way to the bottom of Saruman's tower.

On the second day of the Fellowship's quest, Gimli smugly remarked that the Fellowship of NINE should go to Moria, an expansive land of dwarves and dwarf-mines. Legolas threw up at the prospect.

"No you short idiot," Aragorn said angrily. Gimli's constant spats with Legolas set his teeth on edge, and because Legolas was an old friend of his he sided, if only slightly, with the elf. "We're taking these flat lands."

"No, we should take the mountain pass and go straight to Gondor," Boromir declared.

"I'd never take the ring anywhere near Gondor," Aragorn snarled. "We're not doing this so that you can stupidly fail at using the ring to protect Gondor."

"I only suggested it because Gondor is right next to Mordor!" Boromir argued.

"I thought Mordor was right next to the Shire," Pippin pointed out helpfully. They ignored him.

Aragorn's route failed when a bunch of crows found them.

"They are spies of Saruman!" Aragorn shrieked.

"Who is Saruman?" Frodo asked, bewildered.

"He's a wizard that is above Gandalf but he's evil." Argaorn explained dully.

"But… How are crows supposed to be spies? Does Saruman speak Crow?" asked Pippin.

"Just… just follow me to the mountain pass," Aragorn said irritably. Boromir grinned.

But as they were crossing the mountains, Legolas became uneasy. "There is a fell voice on the air!" he said gracefully.

"It's Saruman. He's trying to bring down the mountain!" Aragorn yelled over the howling winds.

"Not Saruman again! Okay, so now let me guess. He's gifted in the bringing down of mountains, so he's going to crush us. Doesn't he have anything better to do?" Frodo asked.

"Okay, I've had it with you, you little…" Aragorn muttered as he advanced upon Frodo.

"AVALANCHE!" shrieked Gimli.

"Good idea, Boromir," Legolas told him sarcastically.

They all were covered in snow.

"Ooooo, pretty colours!" Pippin sang.

"It's white, you idiot," Merry told him, hitting him on the back of the head.

"Okay, okay," said Gimli as his ugly head protruded from the snow. "Now it's time for my plan. We go to Moria."

"But that's a really stupid plan," said Aragorn. "Firstly, we don't know if any dwarves are still there. Secondly, there are no railings."

Legolas snorted as Gimli hung his head. "We lost a lot of men that way."

Unfortunately, there was no alternative plan, so they ventured to the mines of Moria. Upon arriving, all that the Fellowship found were mines and dead dwarves. And then they were attacked by Moria Orcs. There was also a cave troll. After killing them all they were surrounded by… MORE MORIA ORCS!

But that was not the worst of it.

A Balrog.

"Damn dwarves delved too greedily and too deep!" Legolas complained. "What have I been saying this whole time?" Gimli punched him again.

"RUN, YOU IDIOTS!" screamed Aragorn. "CAN YOU NOT TELL THAT'S A DEMON?"

"A demon?" asked Boromir, confused. "It looks more like a fiery, shadowy Big Horned sheep to me. "

"FLY!" screamed Aragorn.

"Okay!" Merry agreed, sprouting wings and zooming across the bridge of khaza-dum.

"What a stupid name for a bridge," commented Legolas.

"It is an impressive bridge that elves could never have built! The name means, 'I don't care how many rocks you drop on me, I will never collapse'." Gimli told him smugly.

"I'll believe it when I see it," Legolas retorted as they tore across the bridge to the smallest light on the other side.

And then, out of nowhere, Gandalf appeared in an immaculate white robe.

The fellowship, who had all managed to cross the bridge without falling, stared at him.

"YOU SHALL NOT PASS!" shrieked Gandalf.

"What are you doing?" Aragorn asked in shock.

"Hell_o_? I'm gonna sacrifice myself to save your asses!" Gandalf said impressively. "Then I become Gandalf the White because I die and come back to life. Duh!"

"You ARE Gandalf the White!" Boromir pointed out.

Gandalf looked down at his robes.

"So I am!"

_Snow White, Heigh Ho. One does not simply tank cat into Mordor, you know. Twee twee twee twee twee twee twee twee, you know, you know you know you know, you know, tank catting into Mordor is no-go. Da dum da dum da dum da dum heigh hoooooo heigh hoooo._


	3. In Which Gandalf Dies Again

_We do not own Lord of the Rings. We do however own a large assortment of plastic rings with spiders on them._

Gandalf shrugged and turned back to the Balrog. "You shall not pass!" he said imposingly.

The Balrog took a tentative step forward.

"_YOU, SHALL NOT, PASS_!" roared Gandalf. He lifted the sparkling new staff and brought it down to the ground with a small "thud."

"Er…" Gandalf said sheepishly. The Balrog cocked his head.

Gandalf brought the staff down again. Again, nothing happened. The Balrog took another step forward.

Gandalf smacked his staff violently against the ground. "Why – isn't – it – working?" He asked with every dull thud.

The Balrog continued to advance.

"Damn it!" Gandalf cried, frustrated. He threw his staff off the bridge and muttered, "That's the last time I buy anything from a travelling salesgnome."

"Oh, come on!" yelled Aragorn.

"Yeah, you died and came back to life. I was expecting something more impressive," Boromir complained.

"Well you know, it's hard enough without your ungratefulness, being the only wizard around here… I have to do everything myself!" Gandalf whined.

"Look, look, Gandy, I'm playing the world's smallest violin!" Gimli called jokingly across the bridge.

"No you're not." Pippin pointed out helpfully.

"Excuse me, but can you all shut up so that I can kill you?" the Balrog asked pleasantly.

They stared at him, petrified.

"I'll give you five minutes," the Balrog said, turning his back on them and drumming his fingers on the stone stairs… which promptly collapsed.

Gandalf advanced upon the fellowship and said, "We have two choices. One, I can attempt to fight him. Two, we run like hell."

"Our first option failed miserably, so…" Aragorn started.

"So let's RUN!" Frodo bellowed.

The Fellowship pelted out of the Mines of Moria as the orchestra played their heartening theme song. When they exited Moria they found some jagged rocks. They all sat down and some of them began crying.

"Wait, what? Why are you crying?" Aragorn asked Frodo.

Sam and Merry sobbed noisily into each others' shoulders. Pippin tore at his hair.

"Am I missing something?" Aragorn asked, utterly confused.

"Where's Gandalf?" asked Legolas.

And that is when they heard a deafening roar.

"THE BALROG GOT GALDALF!" Sam yelled through his sobs.

"WHAT? That isn't possible!" Aragorn exclaimed.

"He was right behind me!" Boromir told them.

"Yes, but then he tripped," Gimli added.

They all turned to Gimli.

"And?" prompted Aragorn.

"And I was too frickin lazy to help him, okay?" Gimli said angstily.

"NO!" Frodo screamed.

Aragorn stared at the outer wall of Moria for a moment, and then said, "We have to go. Come on."

"This road trip really sucks," complained a still-sniffling Merry.

The Fellowship was now running through some green grass. They reached the Lothlorien woods. Aragorn turned to the Fellowship that he now, once again, after the briefest of interludes in which Gandalf had returned, was in charge of.

"We will be safe here. The elves protect their borders economically."

"What does THAT mean?" Sam asked.

"You'll see," Aragorn said.

As they entered the woods, Gimli tripped over a pylon.

"And there you have it. The elves protect their borders economically," Aragorn said smugly.

As they plodded onwards, warily searching for more pylons, Gimli pulled Frodo and Sam close. You know, to tell them something.

"Stay close, young hobbits. They say that a great Sorceress lives in these woods. An elf-witch. All who look upon her fall under her spell, and are never seen again," he whispered.

Legolas snorted. "You know, I heard a good one once about this city of dwarves where they dug really deep trying to get rich on mithril, got trapped by hordes of orcs, and released a frigging demon. And then they all died horrible deaths."

Gimli glared at him, but continued, "Well, here's one dwarf she won't ensnare so easily. I have the eyes of a hawk and the ears of a fox."

"Yeah, I was wondering about those. They make you look really stupid," Legolas joked.

Gimli glared some more. Suddenly, he impaled his helmet on an arrow. It was held in place on a bow by an elf, who rolled his eyes and yanked the arrow out of the dwarf's helmet.

"We could have shot you in the dark," another elf informed him.

"Yeah, because he's… fat!" Sam spluttered spitefully.

"Why does everyone keep picking on me?" Gimli asked angrily.

"Because you didn't help Gandalf," Aragorn said.

"Fine. What can I do to make it up to you?" Gimli asked.

"Well, if no one else has any suggestions, you can start by cleaning off your blood from my arrow. You're lucky you're so short. I was aiming for a heart but instead I got your thick-skulled head," the elf said.

"You have bad knowledge of anatomy," Aragorn informed him, comparing the location of his heart to Gimli's wound.

"I'm Haldir," said a random elf randomly.

"Er. Hi. I'm Aragorn," Aragorn said, when no one else spoke.

"Yes, we know," Haldir said. "We also know Legolas, and the rest of you we don't care about."

But then, he saw Frodo. He said, "You bring great evil here. You cannot enter."

"Ouch," said Frodo, offended.

"But we need a place to stay!" Aragorn yelled at Haldir.

"Fine, you can come in, but not him," Haldir said, gesturing to Frodo. "And neither can the dwarf. Or you," he added, pointing to Boromir.

"What's wrong with me?" asked Boromir.

"You've got buck teeth," Haldir said.

"No I don't," Boromir said, pulling out a compact mirror and glancing at his reflection in admiration.

"Oh. Well, then I guess you can come in," Haldir said resignedly.

"We can't leave Frodo!" Sam said hysterically.

"Yeah," Merry agreed.

"Or Gimli," said Aragorn reluctantly.

"No, you can leave me, I hate elves," Gimli said.

"But we can't leave Frodo," Sam said stubbornly.

"No we can't. He is my second cousin, once removed on his mother's side," declared Pippin sternly.

Haldir raised his eyebrows.

"Oh, just let us in," Aragorn pleaded. "I'll give you a…" Aragorn searched frantically for something to bargain with. "A leaf!" he said victoriously.

"A leaf?" repeated a random elf incredulously.

"Yes!" Boromir jumped to Aragorn's aid. "Look, it's a beautiful leaf from this – er – birch tree."

"That's an oak," Haldir informed them.

"An oak leaf? Even better!" Boromir exclaimed. He picked a leaf off of the tree – and it was utter mayhem.

"DAMAGE A TREE, WILL YOU?" shrieked tirades of elves who appeared out of nowhere.

"HOW DAAAAAARE YOU!" Haldir bellowed.

"Sorry!" Boromir exclaimed, shocked. "I'll just… Put it back then…" And he tried to tie the leaf back to the branch, but then the tree shattered into a million pieces.

"Unnnnng…" Boromir said.

"SEIZE THEM!" screamed a random elf, as some elves fell to the ground, frothing at their mouths.

The Fellowship of NINE sat locked in an elf prison, guarded by many ferocious pylons.

"I never liked these elves." Legolas muttered suddenly. "When I was a wee lad of 79, they stole my toy trains."

"Legolas, I don't think trains have been invented yet." Merry said.

"Yes they have," Legolas said smugly. "Otherwise I wouldn't have toy ones, now would I?"

Haldir appeared, accompanied by two pointy elves.

"It is time for your trial," Haldir informed the Fellowship.

Aragorn, Boromir, Legolas, Gimli, Frodo, Sam, Merry and Pippin stood up and exited their cell. They followed Haldir through some glowing trees and found themselves at a very beauteous courtroom.

"Lothlorien is the home of Lord Celeborn and his wife, Galadriel, Lady of Light." Haldir informed him. Suddenly, the group halted. Haldir spoke again. "And this is a manky old boot." He gestured with pride to a column, atop of which lay a dirty brown boot.

"Lovely," Aragorn said in a falsely cheerful voice.

They moved into the courtroom and sat down in the defendant area. After a few minutes, the courtroom was full of elves. They all muttered gracefully and shot curious glances at the Fellowship.

A judge elf and two evil-looking elves walked in and took their places as a judge and two prosecutors. And then Celeborn and Galadriel entered. They sat in the back and stared for a bit.

Indeed, everyone was staring at each other. From Aragorn, to Merry, to Legolas, to the manky old boot and back again.

The judge eld said, "Case 4820927134927628493612838363: The elves of Lothlorien against the Fellowship of the Ring. Who is defending you?" the judge asked.

"Er… I'll do it," Aragorn said resignedly.

"How do you plead?" The judge asked.

"We plead insanity," Aragorn said smoothly.

"Insanity?" the judge asked, shocked.

"Yes," Aragorn said.

"Surely Lord Elrond wouldn't send insane people to destroy the One Ring?" the judge said. "If you are lying, you will be punished."

No one spoke. No one breathed. The group of NINE were rapidly turning blue.

"Call your witness," the judge said, sighing.

"The defence calls Legolas, son of Tharanduil, Prince of some murky woodland area that is so much better than this horrendous place," Aragorn said clearly. There was graceful but distinctly offended muttering from the crowd.

Legolas glided to the witness box.

"Legolas, is it true that at one or more points in your long life that you have accidentally eaten a pear when you meant to eat an apple?" Aragorn asked.

"Er… No," Legolas answered.

"I rest my case," said Aragorn. He sat down.

One of the prosecutor elves stood up. "Eight there are here, yet nine there were set out from Rivendell," he said.

"That's my line," muttered Celeborn angrily.

"OBJECTION!" Aragorn called. "Your honour, this is a group of NINE. NINE, do you hear me?"

"Sustained," the judge said.

"Tell me, where is Gandalf, for I much desire to speak with him," the prosecutor continued.

"A Balrog of Morgoth," Legolas said.

"What did you say?" asked the prosecutor.

"A Balrog of Morgoth," confirmed Legolas.

"What did you say?" asked the prosecutor once more.

"A BALROG OF MORGOTH BIT HIS WIZARD HEAD OFF NOW STOP ASKING ME STUPID QUESTIONS!" Legolas shouted.

There was stunned silence.

"Oh my – I'm sorry!" Legolas said quickly. "It's just, I'm upset about Gandalf, and I've been travelling with a dwarf for the past week."

Many of the elves nodded sympathetically, some behind horrified hands at their mouths.

"No further questions," the prosecutor said. Legolas returned to his seat.

"The defense calls Boromir of Gondor," Aragorn said.

Boromir sat in the witness box. Aragorn said, "Nothing further." Everyone looked at him for a while and then one of the prosecutor elves began questioning Boromir.

"What's the matter with you, Aragorn? You're going to get us all in more trouble than we are already in! They'll contact Elrond soon!" Legolas hissed.

"No no no, it'll be fine," Aragorn whispered. He beckoned the others towards him. "Here's the plan. While Gimli is on the stand, we all run away and jump in those pretty little row boats. Okay?"

"And leave me here?" Gimli asked angrily.

"Yes, to make up for you leaving Gandalf. If you survive, you will be completely forgiven." Aragorn said. Gimli snarled.

"_They're Taking the Hobbits to Isengard". Youtube it. Funny stuff. Also, there's nothing wrong with buck teeth. Elves are just shallow. At least, that's what Gimli told me once._


	4. In Which Galadriel Insults Everyone

The Fellowship huffed and puffed as they tore through the forest towards their boatish salvation. Legolas glanced over at Merry and Pippin.

"I've packed lembas bread – the elves bake it. One small bite is enough to fill the stomach of a grown man."

Merry and Pippin nodded intelligently as they ran, and then Merry hissed to Pippin, "How many did you eat?"

"Four," was the reply.

"Ah. Here they are," Aragorn panted.

"These are elven row boats. They are fashioned to move incredibly swiftly through the water," Legolas announced.

Merry and Pippin nodded intelligently, and then Merry hissed to Pippin, "How many did you eat?"

"Four," was the reply.

Aragorn flung out an arm to stop his companions from running into the river. "I must check for pylons, hold on…." He marched into the water and surveyed each boat thoroughly.

"Aragorn, we must go," Legolas urged.

Already they could hear the sounds of angry elves approaching.

"Hang on a minute," Aragorn snapped.

The four hobbits crouched close together, staring wide-eyed into the woods. A new, strange, rustling sound was getting louder. Legolas drew his bow.

"Ranger!" Boromir complained.

"One minute!"

Three of four hobbits yelped, Boromir shouted, and Legolas lowered his bow as the Lady Galadriel emerged from the bushes.

"Lady Galadriel?" Legolas puzzled as Boromir relaxed.

"I mean you no harm," she said. Aragorn turned, and he and the rest of the Fellowship (minus Gimli) gaped dumbly. Pippin yelped, slightly behind schedule. "I come bearing gifts for the bearers of the ring."

"Fantastic," Aragorn said dully, glaring past Galadriel at the ever loudening mob sounds coming from that direction, as the others still stared at the elf Lady.

"To Frodo, the Ring Bearer, I give you this light bulb. You might need it, if it gets dark." _And it will get dark, little Hobbit. Ohhhhhhh yes, it _will_ get dark. _Frodo took the bulb from her, mouth ajar.

"To you other Hobbits, I give these daggers. You can use them to stab things, as well as mirrors, because their surfaces are rather reflective. Also, you can use them to pin things to wooden walls, in case you need to remember an important date or something. Or you can use them as utensils if you do not have any knives." _Not that much pipe-weed out here, is there? Not too much to eat either. That's all you think about, isn't it? And why not? What else are you good for but eating and smoking?_

Merry took both because Pippin was busy pulling a thick splinter from between his front teeth.

"For you, fourth Hobbit, I bring this rope. You can tie many untied objects with it. And you can make very nice bows and all sorts of things. You can drag it for a cat." _Pretty much this means I think you're useless. I've been trying to get rid of that old piece of rope for hundreds of years._

"Excuse me, Lady Galadriel, but could we, maybe, hurry it up?" Aragorn asked, eyes darting uneasily into the trees, where the sounds of angry elves were still growing louder.

"Slow down, Dunedein," she said, "they still have to get passed the pylons. Legolas," she turned, "to you I give this new bow, because yours is broken, as it would be, bring from Mirkwood. Lothlorien bows are very much so superior to Mirkwood bows."

"It isn't broken!" He admired it with pride. "My great-great-great-grandfather made this when he was a lad, and it's withstood the test of time -"

CRACK!

Legolas gaped. _Mirkwood peasant, so high and mighty._ Galadriel said, "Whoops. Anyway, like I was saying, it's broken. Here. It's better." She shoved a large pink bow at him, embellished with little pom-poms and ribbons.

As Legolas stared, speechless, from his broken bow to his hideous new one, Galadriel turned to Boromir. _Ah, yes, the young Gondorian princeling, or so you might wish. Why even bother, eh? Gondor's halfway to hell as it is, and so, oh manipulated one, are you._ "To you, Boromir, I give this spinning top. Use it when you get bored."

"Thanks," Boromir lied.

"And finally, to you, Aragorn, I know that there is no greater gift than the love Arwen has for you, but you might need this. Think about it." She handed him a bottle of acid green shampoo. _Although the unwashed look is rather sexy, if you like that sort of thing, I guess._

The fellowship stood in a line with their backs to their escape vehicles, flabbergasted to a man, staring at the Lady of Light. That was when Gimli launched into their midst from the forest.

"Get in the boooooooooooooooooooooooats!" he roared, saliva fountaining from his mouth in his terror.

"Where did you come from?" Galadriel asked. "Well, I did not plan anything for you, so, here." She yanked out three of her long, golden hairs and thrust them at him.

Gimli stared at them. "Uh, thanks?" he said.

"Come on!" yelled Aragorn, and he began heaving the four hobbits into the boats. Legolas and Boromir each leapt into a boat. Aragorn reached for Gimli.

"Nobody tosses a dwarf!" Gimli said proudly. Head held high, he marched to one of them, stretched his leg as far as it would go, and fell face first into the river.

Thankfully, Legolas had the good sense to pull him up by his beard, and so the fellowship paddled away. They had finally set sail on their way to the land of Gondor.

Boromir, who was happy to be in his homeland again, played a lovely Gondor tune on his Horn of Gondor. The four hobbits all lied and told him it was the best song they'd ever heard, and then giggled together later at how horribly similar it was to the Rohan national anthem.

Gimli ranted and raved about Legolas's man-handling of his beard, complaining that some of the beautiful rust-coloured hairs had been pulled clean out of his chin, while still others were irreversibly damaged. Also, he complained, Legolas had made him lose the three hairs from Galadriel's head, and he had really wanted to keep those as a souvenir of his terrible journey to the center of elfdom. He wanted to prove to his dwarf friends that he had survived the dreaded elf-witch. Legolas rolled his eyes constantly.

Aragorn decided that it was time to stop for the night, and the fellowship dragged the little row boats to the bank and set about cooking. The hobbits were fussing over their meal, but Legolas had withdrawn. He was staring out at the river.

Boromir leaned against a huge rock and sharpened his horn. And his shield. And his helmet. And his belt. He stared moodily over at Aragorn as he did so. Aragorn was pointedly ignoring him, which meant that he had to make conversation with Gimli. When Gimli started talking about his ingrown toenails, Aragorn grunted his irritation and strode over to Boromir.

"What?" he snapped.

"What d'you mean, 'what'?" Boromir muttered sulkily.

"Why are you glaring at me?" Aragorn asked.

"It's what she said," Boromir muttered.

"Who?" Aragorn asked.

"Oh, c'mon, there are only like three women in Middle Earth, is it really that hard for you to narrow it down?"

"What did she say?" Aragorn sighed.

"She told me that Gondor sucks."

"Well. It does."

"Ugh. You're the frigging King, and _you_ don't even love the city. Don't you get why I'd be upset about all of this? Why do people hate Gondor so much?"

Aragorn frowned. "Because… it sucks."

Boromir glared at him.

"Look, kid. You've seen Lothlorien. You've seen Rivendell. Those are two of the only places in Middle Earth with… less influence from Mordor. That's the difference between other cities and Gondor. Just a little less Mordor. Does that make you feel better?"

Boromir looked far from cheered up. "Is that… the difference between others and me, then? I have too much Mordor in me?"

"What are you talking about?" Aragorn asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Nothing." Boromir withdrew.

Aragorn frowned, and caught sight of a moody Legolas, still looking over the river. He looked over at Gimli by the fire. Gimli was using his axe to give himself a pedicure. Aragorn made his way over to Legolas.

"That new bow she gave you will probably still work as well as your old one," Aragorn said, not at all convinced, trying to console Legolas.

"It's not that!" Legolas snapped, although he glanced distastefully at his bow all the same. "I hear something. Uruks. We should move on."

"They won't cross the river," Aragorn said dismissively, and he turned away.

"They're on OUR side of the river!" Legolas responded, but Aragorn was now wolfing down lembas bread.

MEANWHILST…

"Muah ha ha ha ha!" cackled Sauron. Or, rather, the Mouth of Sauron. The Right Hand of Sauron was clapping with the Left Hand of Sauron, and both Feet of Sauron were dancing jovially. Sauron's Cyclops Eye gazed over the party his body parts were throwing.

Gandalf, who was a prisoner of the many body parts of Sauron, was struggling against his chains. "You will never defeat the Fellowship!" he shouted.

"Since when did "Fellowship" become capitalized again?" asked the Mouth. "About halfway through this chapter it was lowercased."

Gandalf paused for a moment. "Who cares?" he said finally, "You will never defeat them, regardless of the capitalization or lack thereof!"

"I care!" the Mouth roared. The Nose sniffed pompously at Gandalf's obvious lack of knowledge. "I am a Mouth! Things sound different depending on their capitalization!"

"You're not the Ears, you freak," Gandalf smart-mouthed.

"I -" The Mouth was temporarily silenced. "Shut up."

_THE END…_

…_of this chapter._


	5. In Which Boromir Becomes a Pincushion

The next morning, as the Uruks hid in the trees planning their attack strategy, Frodo sat against a boulder and surveyed the ring.

He turned it over and over in his hands, certain that he could HEAR the ring talking to him, saying, "Hey there, little guy. I'm going to destroy you and all your friends. So ha." However, it was just Merry whispering in his ear to freak him out while Pippin giggled into his hands.

But then, Frodo heard something that made him jump two feet in fright.

"Hey there, Frodo," came the terrible sound. "Whacha doing?"

"Uh, nothing, Buck-tooth – er, uh, I mean, Boromir." Frodo was sure everyone would think him crazy if they knew he believed that the ring could talk.

"That's a pretty thing, isn't it? Hard to believe it's the single most evil object in the entire history of the world."

"Uh huh," Frodo agreed warily.

"In fact, I don't believe it at all," Boromir grinned, staring hungrily at the ring. "_Give_ it to _meeeeeeeee._ Now."

Frodo gazed at him for a moment, and then took off screaming into the trees. Frodo was running like a mad-hobbit. His arms flailed wildly and he shrieked like nothing had ever shrieked before. Boromir was left puzzled, as if he had just woke from a daze, and he stared after him. "Oh no," said he (Boromir), "He(Frodo)'s going to plunge into that wall of Uruk-hai!"

For there indeed was a wall of Uruk-hai, standing right in front of Frodo, who did not see them.

So brave Boromir leapt after Frodo nimbly and began howling furiously for dramatic effect. Frodo looked behind him, and thinking Boromir was now trying to take the ring for himself, screamed and held the ring out as far in front of him as his little hobbit-arm could stretch.

And seeing the one ring, and understanding far better than his comrades, Lurtz, the head Uruk-hai, promptly held out his hand for it as Frodo drew ever nearer.

"STOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOP! THERE'S URUK-HAI! FRODO, NOOOOO!" bellowed Boromir.

And he sprang foreword to wrench the ring from Frodo as it neared the lustful hands of Lurtz. And Frodo, seeing this in his periphery vision, halted and sucked his arm back in with surprisingly quick reflexes. And Boromir sailed fruitlessly over Frodo's head. And he landed on his face in the midst of the Uruk-hai.. And Frodo finally saw the Uruks. And he fainted.

Frodo opened his eyes slowly, the world around him swimming. He looked up and saw the Uruks surrounding him. In his terror, the first thing Frodo thought to do was put on the ring which was tightly enclosed in his hand.

The Uruks disappeared.

"... Well, that was handy," Frodo said to himself, looking around in surprise.

Then the great eye of Sauron appeared before him. Frodo yelled out in surprise as the Mouth of Sauron danced into view.

"I _SEEEEE_ YOU!" the mouth sang in delight. "I can sing in delight, because I'm a mouth, you see."

"I see," Frodo agreed breathlessly in fear. "But you don't, you're just a mouth."

The mouth was, temporarily, silenced once again. Frodo took this opportunity to yank the ring off of his finger. He suddenly appeared in the midst of the Uruk-hais again. Twenty or so held Boromir, who was struggling and swearing terrifying Gondorian oaths, stretched out between them.

Frodo sighed in relief because he could no longer hear the Mouth's terrible singing voice. Then he realized he was surrounded by Uruks, distracted though they were, and promptly fainted again.

Back at the campsite, Sam noticed that Frodo was not leaning against his boulder. "Where's Frodo?" he asked.

"Oh dear God! Boromir's shield is still here, and he's nowhere to be found! I should have _known_ there was something suspicious when he told me he had too much Mordor in him," Aragorn exclaimed.

"If I were you, I'd be more concerned about the army of Uruk-hai that are in the forest planning their attack strategy," Legolas said airily.

"Oh God no! Boromir is such a jackass! I'll kill him for killing Frodo! That bastard! I will avenge you, little Hobbit! I swear on my mother's sculpted grave!" Aragorn shrieked. This impassioned speech sent poor Sam into hysterics.

"Oh come on, Sam, Aragorn's just stupid today. There's no reason to suspect Frodo's dead," Gimli honked as he chewed a huge chunk of bread voraciously.

"Yeah, except that THERE's A HUGE URUK-HAI ARMY OUT THERE PLANNING TO KILL US!" Legolas screamed.

Everyone stared at him.

"WELL THERE IS!" he shouted, sounding somewhat more composed.

"Come on men, elves, dwarves, and shorter dwarves! Let's KILL Boromir!" Aragorn declared. Those following him rolled their eyes, but they tore into the woods, and Frodo ran smack into them.

"Boromir – Uruk – hai – ran – fainted first – then ran – auuuuurrrgh," and then he fainted again.

"I shall protect him! You all split up and run around aimlessly," Aragorn commanded.

Once they had left, grumbling, Frodo opened his eyes. "Get away from me!" he yelled, jumping backwards and brandishing Sting at Aragorn.

"I would protect you until the end!" Aragorn said, affronted. "And when the hell did you get Sting? I don't remember that at all!"

"I don't know, I'm really confused. But can you protect me from yourself?" Frodo asked.

"Eh?" Aragorn asked.

"You will all fall in love with the ring, it will destroy you all! I won't have it! I will go to Mount Doom alone!"

"Wow, Frodo, you're actually showing some impressive initiative here. Okay, then, and good luck. I will kill all these Uruks who are standing around eavesdropping on our private conversation. Goodbye!"

Frodo tore off into the bushes, and Aragorn did exactly what he said he would.

Meanwhilst, Gimli and Legolas stood nonchalantly against one tree each. "Do you wanna go fight?" asked Gimli lazily.

"Meh," replied Legolas, watching the battle with a mildly interested expression.

Merry and Pippin had taken off together, and were hiding in some plant life, when Frodo ran screaming down a path near them.

"Frodo! Come hide with us!" hissed Pippin, as some Uruks marched nearby. But Frodo only paused to shake his head and tie his shoe and then he took off again.

"Why's he wearing shoes?" a passing Uruk asked in bewilderment.

"Those were _totally_ last season," the Uruk's companion agreed as they marched off together.

"Where's he going?" asked Pippin stupidly once the Uruks were out of earshot.

"He's leaving!" cheered Merry. "More non-existent pipe-weed for us!"

So they leapt from their hiding place to celebrate, and that is when the Uruks surrounded them.

Boromir ran in all heroically, playing the Rohan national anthem on his Gondor Horn, and fought single-handed the Uruks who had come to take the halflings away.

Aragorn, upon hearing the terrible hooting notes and knowing the stupid song about horses would now be stuck in his head for weeks, rushed away to help.

But Lurtz had withdrawn a deadly arrow from his whatever-you-call-it and had fixed it to his bow. He took aim, and fired.

Merry and Pippin watched, astounded.

But Boromir glanced at his wound, which was a fatal one, and simply continued to fight. Lurtz again aimed and shot, and again Boromir stayed upright. Lurtz shot again, and again, and again, and yet Boromir would not expire.

"NO!" Lurtz howled, because all of his arrows were gone.

One of the Uruks staring curiously at Boromir reached over and pinched him.

"Ow!" Boromir shrieked, and then he collapsed.

Merry and Pippin stood, defenseless.

"Wait, we have daggers!" Merry exclaimed. "That mean lady gave them to us."

"Uh, I sold them," Pippin said sheepishly.

"You _sold_ them? For what?"

"Money," Pippin said dignifiedly. "Which I spent on a bunch of bananas."

The Uruks gathered up the furious Merry and Pippin, who were nevertheless munching on bananas, and ran off towards the east, east being where Isengard is.

But Lurtz stayed. With an evil gleam on his teeth and a terrible growl, he aimed another's arrow directly at Boromir's face.

That was when Aragorn arrived (finally). He surveyed the situation and then launched himself at Lurtz, knocking the latter to the ground. They stood, and stared each other down. Then Lurtz made out with his knife, and the fighting began.

It seemed as though Aragorn would lose, but then, after several minutes of harrowing close-combat, he plunged his sword into the place where Lurtz's heart should have been.

"Ah ha, it's two sizes too small, you missed it!" Lurtz teased. "Also, I'm made out of a thick grey-brown gloop, so, yeah."

Aragorn glared, and then cut Lurtz's arm off.

"Hey!" Lurtz began, but Aragorn's sword was coming around, and it was slicing through the air right at Lurtz's neck.

The Uruk Captain's life flashed before his eyes. He remembered the merry dance he had attended with Jane, Mary, Kitty, and Lydia, and when he had first set eyes on the infuriating Mr. Darcy.

He remembered the condescending way the Bingley's servants had announced him, "Miss Lurtz Bennet." He remembered especially the detestable thing Mr. Darcy had said at that dance, and then when Lydia had run away with the horrid Mr. Wickham –

"ENOUGH OF THAT!" bellowed Aragorn, and Lurtz's head fell to the ground.

"Wow, for a while, we thought you'd die, but you really did it," Gimli commented from against his tree.

"Yeah, that was impressive," Legolas agreed, and then the two stared at each other in horror. They had agreed on something!

"Aaaaaaaragorn!" croaked Boromir.

"Oh no, my younger brother who I had planned to kill up until this moment!" Aragorn exclaimed.

Legolas shook his head. Gimli shook his too. Then they started at each other in horror again.

"I've been such a fool! I tried to take the ring from Frodo. It told me I was pretty. It told me it would make all of my dreams come true. It told me it would help me protect Gondor! And now I don't know what has become of Frodo, and they took them! They took the little ones! The stoner little ones!"

"You have not failed, Boromir. Well, actually, you have, but... let's not talk about that just now. We'll save them."

"Promise me, that you will not let Gondor fall to Sauron."

"Hasn't it already fallen to Sauron, or at least technically, with that crazy coot you call your father running it?"

"OH COME ON YOU BASTARD I'M DYING!"

Aragorn had to agree with that. "Yes. Okay, yes, Boromir. I'll go become King, and I'll protect your city from Sauron. I promise."

"Good. I like that. I approve. But wash your hair first."

"Fiiiine."

"And take care of my brother, Faramir. Introduce him to your cast-offs. He needs some love. He's a good kid. Much better than me. But tell him I said I hate him. Okay no, don't say that. That would be wrong. But, uh, don't tell him I told you he's better than me. I don't want him to get cocky and make all of my mistakes."

"I'll take care of it," said Aragorn, and there was a genuine sadness in his eyes as he watched Boromir take his last breaths.

"What are we going to do with the corpse?" Gimli asked after a collective moment of silence.

"Classy," Aragorn snarled. He was still kneeling beside Boromir.

"Well, we have to get going if we're going to save those guys. You know, the ones. With the hair. And the eating disorders."

Boromir was soon unceremoniously laid in one of the boats. As they stood back to admire their work, Legolas made a suggestion.

"We should put his sword and Gondorian horn with him."

"And my axe!" Gimli agreed uproariously.

Aragorn put Boromir's sword and horn of Gondor over his chest, careful to maneuver them around the many arrows which protruded from him. Gimli contributed by plunging his axe into Boromir's leg.

"Well, goodbye, my brother," Aragorn said softly before kicking the boat violently. It rocked a bit, but then floated down the river.

"Well, let's get Frodo and get out of here," Gimly suggested.

"Umm, about that..." Aragorn said sheepishly. "I _kind_ _of_ sent him to Mordor on his own."

"You _what?_" Legolas rolled his eyes. "Okay, so it's just the three of us now."

"Aren't we forgetting someone?" Gimli asked, scratching his head.

"It's a Fellowship of _nine_," Aragorn sighed, with an air of talking to a stubborn child. "Us three, Boromir, Frodo, Merry, Pippin and Gandalf. Nine."

As they set off, Sam appeared, looking around in bewilderment. "Mr. Frodo? _Frodo?_"

And then he saw him, in his own little boat that he had just whittled, paddling away.

"WAIT, MR. FRODO!" bellowed Sam, and he tried to follow.

"No, Sam! I'm going alone!"

"Okay, and I'm going with you!" Sam agreed.

"No!" Frodo yelled, but still Sam followed. "Sam, you can't swim!"

So Sam began to drown. On land.

"What the!" Frodo asked.

And then Sam coughed, spluttered, and was heaved into Frodo's beached boat with Frodo's help. Sam looked at him gratefully. "Oh, thank you, Mr. Frodo, I should always remember to not go out of my depth. So does this mean that I'm coming with you?"

"Well, I mean, if you're going to _die_ otherwise, I suppose you can come along," Frodo told him, and they paddled through the river running black with the blood of Uruks into the sunset.

_You're a mean one, Mr. Lurtz. You've termites in your smile. And you seem to think you are Lizzy Bennet all the whi-hile. _


	6. In Which Gimli Counsels Grieving Masses

_**PART TWO: The Angst of the Rings**_

"Yooooooooou shall not pass!" Gandalf shrieked, and yet still his junk staff refused to work. "You shaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaall not pass!" Still nothing. "You shall nooooooooooooooot pass!" Zippo.

The staff was chucked into the depths beyond the bridge of khaza-dum. The fellowship whined. The Balrog drummed his fingers patiently. The fellowship took off screaming.

But Gandalf tripped on his uber not-travel-wear robes. He crashed to the stone surface of the bridge. Gimli, the second last one in the line, turned to ogle the fallen wizard.

"Meh," said he, and he left.

The Balrog seized Gandalf. But this was already Gandalf the White (since he had previously been murdered by Saruman), and so without his staff he was still a formidable opponent. Demon and wizard entered into an epic battle.

Roar roar, magic magic, fire and shadow attack pattern alpha, secret fire servicing, flame of Udun pwn, flame of Anor weild win, etcetera.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Frodo screamed, not for the first (or last) time, as he woke.

"What is it, Mr. Frodo?" asked Sam who had not been sleeping but who had instead been crouching inches from Frodo's face, staring at him as he slept.

"Oh Sam, I was dreaming, Sam."

"You were dreaming, Mr. Frodo?"

"Yes, Sam, I was dreaming."

"What were you dreaming, Mr. Frodo?"

"Sam, I was dreaming about Gandalf, Sam."

"Gandalf, Mr. Frodo?"

"Sam, I was dreaming about how Gandalf died, Sam, back in Moria, Sam."

"Yes, Mr. Frodo. He died in Moria. We're all very sad about that, Mr. Frodo."

Gollum, who lurked nearby, said, "Well, they does a lot of useless talksies, doesn't they, precious?"

_ELSEWHERE..._

"Die!"

"No!"

"Die!"

"No!"

"Die!"

"No!"

"Die!"

"No!"

"Die!"

"No!"

"Die!"

"No!"

"Die!"

"No!"

"Die!"

"No!"

This was an argument between petticoated Lurtz and Boromir. With every screamed, "Die," Lurtz would shoot an arrow, and with every staunch, "No," Boromir would continue to live, looking more and more like a porcupine or a pincushion.

In rushed Aragorn, gallant and heroic.

"I shalt save thee, Boromironi!" he bellowed, brandishing his sword and rushing to engage a stunned Lurtz.

But – ARAGORN WAS NOT WEARING PANTS!

He woke, sweaty and horrified.

"Aragorn, why the hell are you sleeping? We're supposed to be running non-stop to go rescue those hobbits - not the morally responsible ones, but the stoner and the wiseass," Gimli said, as he ran past Aragorn, who was flat on his back wearing a nightcap.

"Yeah, keep up, this was your idea anyway," Legolas called from way ahead.

"Every time I go to sleep randomly in the middle of running non-stop, I have the same dream. I fail to save the gallant Boromir," he said sadly as he got up to follow his comrades.

"No one cares about Boromir. We've moved on," Gimli called bluntly.

"We put him in a boat with his horn," called Legolas, who was so far ahead now that they could scarcely hear him.

"And my axe," added Gimli. It was true. "Although now I have no weapon."

"Don't worry, Gimli, we're used to you being useless," Legolas screamed so that they could hear him.

They ran on.

_MEANWHILST..._

"AHHHH!" shrieked Pippin, jerking awake.

"What?" Merry asked nonchalantly, lounging in a field chomping on mushrooms.

"I had a terrible dream that these abnormally huge orcs got us, and they dragged us off to our doom with the evil wizard man!"

"Pip, you need to lay off the hallucinogens."

And then they smoked pipe weed and ate mushrooms all day.

And then Pippin actually woke up.

_ANOTHER LAME TRANSITION TO SOMEWHERE ELSE..._

There was a meadow. In this meadow fluffy little bunnies hopped about munching on big pink flowers. The sun shone and the grass was green and then a herd of deer (with eyelashes, Disney style) came prancing along.

"AHHHH!" Screamed the Uruk who usually carried Pippin as he woke up, since that to an Uruk is a nightmare.


	7. In Which Sauron's Pancreas Squelches

Ahem. **HOW GANDALF ESCAPED**. Sort of.

Yes, Gandalf had been pulled into the chasms beneath the bridge of Khaza-dum by the Balrog, but presently he had fouler foes to contend with.

The Balrog was easily bought off (after killing Gandalf a myriad of times without inflicting the slightest evidence of death upon him) and so Gandalf had trekked out of Moria. He meant to follow the rest of the Fellowship into Lothlorien, but a pylon had cleverly sent him the wrong way.

Confused and disoriented, Gandalf arrived at the front gate of Mordor.

"Huh," he had remarked.

Now he was bound and chained, and being constantly interrogated by the severed body parts of Sauron.

"Where is the ring?" asked the Mouth of Sauron for the umpteenth time.

"I have no freaking clue," replied Gandalf for the umpteenth time.

"Why not?" asked the Mouth.

"Because, you creep, I fell off a cliff, then I was kidnapped and murdered by Saruman, then I was attacked and murdered several times by a Balrog, and now I'm here. I've had very little involvement in this, despite the fact that your side keeps killing me."

"This is sooooooooooooooooooooooo unfair," said the Mouth as one of the feet stomped in fury.

"You've given up, then? Can I go?" asked Gandalf hopefully.

"Everyone here is so useless! Where the hell are the Nine, anyway? Isn't their one purpose in life to find the ring and be slaves to it? Wait, how many purposes did I just mention? Well who cares, everyone sucks."

The eye cried bitterly.

The hand dialled the palantir.

"Hello there," came a low, seductive voice from the depths of the orb, "you're speaking to smexy Saruman, who's this?"

"It's me, you moron, what the frig, answer the palantir in a professional manner!" yelled the Mouth.

"Oh, uh, whoops, I mean, one million apologies, my Lord Sauron. What can I do for you, O Mighty One?"

"Since Gandalf is no help at all," began the Mouth.

"Gandalf? I thought he was dead!"

"Nope, you can't kill me," Gandalf chimed in, "I've got something to do, apparently."

"Okay then, Jesus allegory," Saruman replied.

"Shut up, you insufferable wizards! Saruman, have you seen the Nine anywhere?"

"Yeah… four of them are in Bermuda, they sent me a postcard. The other five are still wringing out their cloaks from that time that that chick actually did something which was weird because she's a chick."

"ARRRRRRRRRRRGH!" bellowed the Mouth.

"But my Lord, my army is almost ready to attack the peasants who love horses a little too much. And not just Uruks! I have almost convinced the wildmen to join us!"

The Mouth's mouth curled into a smile. It was a frightening sight. Blood and gore trickled down the lips, the skin on the Mouth's face cracked unpleasantly (although when is that pleasant?), and as his tall, pointy, black teeth were revealed a stench of rot smacked Gandalf in the face with the kind of power only the Mouth of Sauron's mouth could command.

"That is positively hunky dory!" the Mouth squealed, dancing for joy. "Okay, Saruman, you get back to that," he hung up the palantir. "And you, my pretty…"

Gandalf, bound and chained, shrunk against the stone wall, positively trying to merge his molecules with the wall's. The Mouth and all of the other severed body parts advanced cruelly. Both hands, scraggily, long-fingered, and rotting, reached for him. The feet, iron-toed, advanced at a slow, menacing, heartbeat pace.

The pancreas squelched. The torso loomed. The hips swayed. Even the eye gazed down at Gandalf from the sky light.

"You are going to help me make gift baskets!"

"For what, you fiend?"

"For whom, you mean."

"I definitely don't mean 'for whom'."

The Mouth turned away and threw its arms to the sky in abandon. "Resist if you want. Stay chained to the wall if you so choose. But if you don't volunteer your services I'll sing."

"O murderous dastardly evil-doer! I shall never give in!"

"Suit yourself."

Hours later, the Mouth had gone through all of his favourite classic Dwarven Mining tunes, the entire score of That Really Tragic Elf Who Was Aragorn's Mother Probably, and every advertising jingle tooted by travelling salesgnomes from the deepest pits of Mordor to the tallest trees of Lothlorien.

At this point, Gandalf was almost fed up. He was certainly irritated. The Mouth was singing some national anthems.

"Horses, horses, horses," it sang to conclude the Rohan national anthem.

Gandalf's glare looked almost painful to sustain on his face. "Fine!" he finally burst. "I'll help you make gift baskets! Now will you please SHUT UP!"

"But there are so many other national anthems I love to sing!" the Mouth said regrettably. He happily handed Gandalf some ribbon and a large basket, and mused, "like the Gondor one!"

"Gloin's sopping wet jockstrap," Gandalf cursed.

"Oh Gondor, I am Denethor, I am the leader of you, and I command you! I am the great, amazing, almighty, incredible, fantastic, supreme, bold, remarkable, miraculous, exceptional, astonishing, wonderful, marvellous, astounding, extraordinary, incomparable, orgasmic, splendid, spectacular, majestic Denethor, and I love you! But I love me more!"

Gandalf was stunned.

"Denethor wrote it."

"No kidding."

Late that night while the Mouth was snoring in a pile of sleeping bits of Sauron, Gandalf used the ribbon to scale down the tower. He landed softly, then quietly turned to face his freedom.

Instead, he found himself face-to-face with the thousands of orcs who made Mordor their home.

Dun dun dun.


	8. In Which Everyone Runs in Circles

_Chapter Three of Angst of the Rings: Gollum the Avenger_

Somewhere in Middle Earth, there was a vast expanse of mountains. None of them were Mount Doom, but you had to give Frodo and Sam credit for trying, Gollum granted. At least they weren't in a forest or something.

"Mr. Frodo, haven't we passed this rock before?"

"I think you're right, Sam."

"You know what that means, Mr. Frodo?"

"What does that mean, Sam?"

"We're going in circles," Sam groaned. "Look, there's that dandelion that looks like Boromir's elbow."

Frodo and Sam shared a gleeful snicker before flopping down onto the rocks. "You know, Sam, I don't think this is Mount Doom."

"Right, Mr. Frodo. I think it would have a more doomy atmosphere."

"Exactly, Sam. So where next?"

Sam shrugged, opening his pack and producing a crumb of Lembas bread for each of them. "I think we should head for the forest, Mr. Frodo."

Gollum let out a groan from his hiding spot among some grass. Frodo, however, thought this was a wonderful idea. "Good thinking, Sam!"

"Thanks, Mr. Frodo."

Frodo took the Ring from around his neck and placed it on a stone a few feet away. "So which way to the forest, Sam?"

Gollum's eyes widened; the ring was right in front of him. He crawled forward, reaching his spindly hand. The ring was calling him, he could feel its voice. _Rah rah ah ah ah, roma romama, gaga ooh la la_, it crooned.

"I don't know, Mr. Frodo, I think we have to go…" Sam closed his eyes and swung his arm. He stopped it randomly. "That way."

"You're sure, Sam?"

"Yes, Mr. Frodo. Before I worked as your gardener, I was a pocket compass."

Gollum let out a hefty sigh. "You guys are friggen _stupid_."

Frodo and Sam looked up at him.

"Curses," Gollum mumbled.

* * *

"Haven't we passed that rock before?" called Aragorn to his marathonning companions, tilting his head to the left to peer at it more closely as he raced past.

"Yes," said Legolas in an irritated monotone.

"And we're about to pass it again," grumbled Gimli.

The three comrades were running in a tight little circle.

"WHY are we running in a circle?" Aragorn shouted.

"I don't &!%$*# know, we're following you!" Legolas complained.

"Okay, fine, calm down. Which way were we originally headed?" Aragorn asked.

"What do you mean, originally? Before we started running in a circle, or before we ran backwards for half a mile, or before we rolled down that mountain over yonder, or before we walked sideways like crabs for an hour?" Gimli asked, leaning against the rock and taking a swig of water from his flask.

"Before you turned into a &%#!*%$! idiot, is that what you meant?" Legolas suggested.

"No, just, okay. Let's take a breather." Aragorn threw himself down, and his companions followed suit.

Legolas glared moodily into the distance. Gimli dumped the rest of his water into his beard. Aragorn consulted a map.

"Where on Middle Earth could those Uruks be taking our dear friends?" Aragorn muttered, tracing the mountain ranges with his eyes.

"Tolkein only knows. Legolas, why don't you look with your elf eyes?"

Legolas stood and looked all around. He turned away from the sunset and declared, "They're turning East. They must be going to Saruman."

"Those bastards," Aragorn said, slamming his fist onto the map.

"Shocking," added Gimli.

"Okay, let's go. But from now on, _I'm_ leading," said Legolas.

The three took off into the darkening east.

* * *

The largest of the Uruks glared menacingly at a small boulder in his path. "I could have sworn that we had passed this rock before," he growled.

"Nooo, that's not the same rock, it had distinctive markings on it that I'd remember," hissed a thin-faced Uruk who marched beside the leader.

"Are you sure?" boomed a thick-throated Uruk. "It looks to be about the same size as the one we passed."

"That's the same damn rock," snarled a smaller Uruk.

"I don't know about you chaps, but I'm too tired and hungry to give a flying flask about rocks right now," cackled the Uruk who was carrying Pippin.

"Yes, let's just stop for the night then," said the leader.

The smaller Uruk sidled up to the hobbits who had been dumped near the excess weaponry that the Uruks always carried for no discernable reason. "Mmmm, fresh meat. I ain't had nothin' but mouldy bread for the last… since I was pried outta the mould, really. The mould I was made out of, innit, not the kind on the bread."

"That's… nice," said Merry, glancing at Pippin with raised eyebrows.

"Get away from the Halflings, Dorothy. They're to be delivered alive." The leader Uruk had moved closer and was watching the smaller Uruk with intense mistrust.

"But cap'n, they don't need all them limbs, eh?" Dorothy (…) snarled, and he grabbed Pippin's leg furiously.

"Back the hell off, yeah?" the Captain roared, pulling Dorothy off of Pippin and throwing him across the camp.

"Grrrrr, snarl," said the Uruks, and a fist fight ensued that made all Uruks forget about the hobbits.

"Merry, I am sorely regretful to inform you of this, but I'm finished with this whole business," Pippin sighed.

"Pip, let's get the hell out of here," Merry agreed.

And as they snuck off with Dorothy sneaking off behind them, a ten score force on horseback leapt into the Uruks' midst.

_There were supposed to be orcs in that group of Uruks, but whatever. _


	9. In Which There Are Ladies

**Galadriel**

It was a magnificent night. The stars shone in the sky, and they also shone in the Lady Galadriel's eyes as she swept along the forest floor down a path she alone used. When she arrived at the secret clearing, she pushed some leaves away and stepped forth into the light reflected from her magical mirror.

She slowly poured a jug of her enchanted water into the basin and waited.

A face swam murkily for several moments and then became clear.

"Lady Galadriel."

"Lord Elrond."

Elrond peered up at the Lady of Light, looking troubled. "Why have you called me, my Lady?"

"I called to speak to you of your daughter, Lord Elrond."

"What about her?" he asked, sounding slightly defensive.

"As you know, the Ring of Power passed through Lothlorien not long ago. Well done, by the way. I know Celeborn was too polite to say anything to you, so allow me. That had to have been the single worst selection of people to perform an important task that I have ever had the displeasure of seeing."

"They volunteered, Lady Galadriel! What was I supposed to do?"

"Do not bore me with such speculations. You needn't have been involved at all! Middle Earth affairs are no longer the concern of the elves."

"I find myself incapable of being as cold-hearted as you."

"You know what I saw, Elrond. You know very well how this will all end."

Elrond frowned deeply but made no reply other than a prompt. "What about Arwen, my Lady?"

"As I was saying. The One Ring was here, and it tested me. I did not succumb, just like you. We both can go across the sea."

"Yes," Elrond said questioningly.

"You know what else I have seen, Elrond. Concerning your daughter."

"She is also your granddaughter!" Elrond snapped.

"Alas, I have no influence on her. You raised her, and you raised her to be impertinent as well as wilful. I fear for you both."

"Arwen will come with me across the sea. You do not have to trouble yourself any longer." He was livid, and close to walking away. She pressed her luck.

_Oh yes. Of this I have no doubt._

She blinked and he had gone.

**Arwen**

_[Some weeks ago…]_

Arwen was a girl. Yes, she was an elf, but she was also a girl, and sometimes the girl part of her won out. Like right now, if you wanted a really good example. She was crouched inelegantly in some sort of plant. She was starting to suspect that it was poison ivy. But she really didn't care. Not in this moment. This perfect, perfect moment.

Aragorn was darting about, waving his hands in the air, yelling at three children about Ring Wraith wounds and the like. One child lay on the ground, breathing unsteadily. She had heard the battle screams of the Wraiths, and had also heard the battle cry of her love, Aragorn. The Ranger. So she had crept into hiding.

"We have to get him to Elrond!" shrieked her handsome King, flapping awkwardly. She was positively swooning. Two of the children, she saw fleetingly, had removed their hats, and the third was flapping about even more awkwardly than Aragorn.

But she hardly cared. All she knew was that Aragorn was coming to her home. And if his tiny companion was as grievously wounded as he seemed (and she truly, deeply hoped that he was) then perhaps Aragorn would have to stay in Rivendell for a very long time!

Yonder, directly behind her, in fact, was Rivendell. It was not far at all from where they were now. But Aragorn, she saw, was rather disoriented.

"WHERE IS IT? WHERE IS IT? I KNEW WHERE IT WAS TEN MINUTES AGO! A BIG FAT GONDORIAN POX UPON YOU, FOREST, FOR MAKING ME ALL CONFUSED!"

The two children with removed hats were now running in frenzied circles and ran smack into each other. The third child was sobbing noisily into his hands.

Aragorn stopped screaming, took one shuddering breath, and joined him.

Arwen was moved. Because, surely, if he didn't find the safety of Rivendell soon, the Ring Wraiths would be back and then he'd be killed. And then she'd never get to chaotically pour out her feelings to him.

She stuck her hand in her mouth and whistled, hard.

Aragorn and the three children looked up, startled, and seemed to look right at her. But she knew they were really looking behind her at the beautiful waterfall which thundered at the entrance to the Rivendell path. You couldn't miss it, really.

But he was still so very handsome.

"Come, comrades!" Aragorn declared, and he hoisted the wounded child on to his shoulders and sprinted towards the path. The other children ran after him with their hands in the air, screaming.

They almost trampled her, but they still somehow managed not to see her. After they had gone, Arwen, almost bursting with girlish, love-sick happiness and a feeling of self-satisfaction which can only be brought on by a full evening of stalking, climbed the nearest tree to watch the man she loved race towards her city. What she saw when she reached the top almost stopped her heart.

The five Ring Wraiths were sneaking slowly to intersect her love and the children before they could cross the river and reach safety.

Arwen leapt from the tree and called the horse she had stolen from Glorfindel, Asfaloth. Asfaloth had hidden himself in a large bush of poison ivy as well. She hoisted herself astride the proud horse and urged him foreword. They rode at a breakneck speed, making for the river.

"Oh no there's a river oh no what do we do there's a river ahh oh gosh oh golly what are we to do now oh no oh no oh no!" squeaked the most anxious of the children.

"Okay, you three wait here. I'll come back for you as soon as I drop Frodo off," Aragorn was saying.

"No way! I'm not staying here waiting to be stabbed by those Wraith things!" one of the hat-wearing children yelped in response.

Aragorn made an impatient noise in his throat. "Fine then! Climb up on my shoulders, you lot, and try not to suffocate Frodo!"

As the strange group jostled with each other on the shore, trying to get into river-crossing formation, they didn't even notice as Arwen and Asfaloth went dashing into the river and then charging downstream.

This was when the Ring Wraiths appeared. Arwen held Asfaloth steady in the river and stood her ground, placing herself firmly between the wraiths and Aragorn's party and keeping their faceless eyes fixed on her.

"OW! Sam, you're squashing me!"

"Get off out if it! That was your own fault!"

"My pipe-weed! Aragorn, stoop down so I can reach it!"

"I'm slipping, help, no stop, STOP!"

"Oh wow, Frodo, you don't look so good. Hey, Strider, he's really grey, and his eyes are rolling up into his skull. I think he needs a breather, and maybe a nice strong cup of tea."

"When we get to Rivendell I'm going to kill every single one of you."

The Wraiths, unbelievably, hadn't seen them, and indeed, they hadn't seen the Wraiths, or Arwen and Asfaloth for that matter. Arwen straightened her shoulders and glared at the Wraiths.

"Where is the halfling, she-elf?" one of them hissed at her.

"Come across the river and find out!" she spat.

Praying fiercely that her gambit would work, she ever so slowly backed Asfaloth out of the river and performed some elf enchanting that her evil old grandmother had tried not to teach her.

She spoke to the river itself, and as Aragorn toddled unsuccessfully towards the river and as the Ring Wraiths charged in enthusiastically, the water magically rose and swept the wraiths away. The waters left in its wake barely a puddle, and Aragorn unceremoniously dropped the three hobbits and let them cross by themselves, wondering aloud why the river was suddenly so shallow.

None saw Arwen. She grinned and rode Asfaloth around in circles and over nearby cliffs for a while to rid herself and the horse of excess adrenaline.

She finally returned to Rivendell, and her father was waiting for her. She rolled her eyes as she approached him, seeing his enormous frown. He always looked into her future when she went out so that he could be waiting for her precisely when she returned to frown at her.

"What, father?"

"You've been playing with the river again, haven't you, Arwen?"

"Has someone said something?" she asked innocently.

"No," he said, glaring at her.

"Well then how could you possibly have come to the conclusion that -"

"But your grandmother called."

Arwen was furious. "How am I supposed to have any privacy with the two of you _spying_ on me all of the time?"

"Arwen, why you think you deserve privacy is beyond me. I mean, take Glorfindel." At this, the forest elf emerged - with a couple of black eyes and more than a few bruises - from one of the garden paths and seized Asfaloth's reins angrily. He strode off. "You beat him senseless and stole his horse. And you want us to leave you alone."

"Father, I _had_ to! I had to help Aragorn! You said he'd be passing through this way, and I just _knew_ that he'd need help!"

"Ha!" Elrond scoffed. "You got lucky. You didn't know that he'd need any help, you just wanted to stalk him, to follow him around like a little lovesick puppy. I have news for you, Arwen. He doesn't care about anything other than his own stupid ranger way of life. He has no room in it for a high-maintenance elf girl like you."

"Oh, why am I even talking to you?" she asked, attempting a look of nonchalance but only managing uneasy irritation. "I'll be in my chambers if you need me."

She ambled off, and managed to hold in her grumblings about Galadriel until she was out of her father's earshot. She caught up to Glorfindel and apologized profusely, and after a moment of glaring moodily at her he was his merry self accepting her apology and asking her jauntily what she thought about riding Asfaloth. She left him smiling and felt a tad better herself.

She found her way inside and took the shortcut, which as always had her cutting through the Arms Room. She would usually slow and peer curiously at the shattered blade of the king. Today would be no different, except that Aragorn was already doing so.

Her heart almost jumped out of her mouth.

He hadn't heard or seen her, or at least he did not acknowledge her presence. Arwen could just sneak off without being spotted. She decided that yes, that's what she would do… but first she'd just hunker down behind a column and watch him for a while.

All was going swimmingly until Boromir showed up.

"Hello, Lady Arwen! What are you doing on the floor? Let me help you up!" All of this he boomed out so loudly that it was impossible for anyone to not hear, and Aragorn looked around. Arwen's face had gone a brilliantly un-elflike beet red. Boromir pulled her up by her shoulders and grinned at Aragorn.

"Hello there, sir! Admiring the sword of Elendil, eh? Pretty shattered, is it not? Yeah, too bad about that. But my father is a capable steward. We can keep Gondor safe without it."

"Yes," Aragorn said quietly, and Arwen could just feel the angst seeping from the one word. "Hello, Lady Arwen."

"Hi," she all but whispered in her embarrassment.

Boromir stood gaily in their midst for a moment, and then said, "Well, I better go train or something! See you later, stranger, and good day to you, Lady Arwen." And he bounded off.

Arwen shuffled awkwardly. Aragorn was still staring at the broken Narsil. "So, that was Boromir, huh?" he asked glumly.

"Yes it was," she agreed.

She stood there awkwardly, waiting for him to say something else, but when he did, what he said was, "Um, Arwen, I don't mean to be rude, but I kind of wanted to have some alone time in which to angst a bit. If you don't mind."

"Oh, no, that's fine, Aragorn. I'll just, um, go, then."

And she turned to leave, but froze.

"Oh Narsil, why do you have to be so broken? You are just like my soul. I only wish I could fix you!"

She turned around in surprise.

Aragorn was now cradling some of Narsil's shards, crooning to them as if they were babies, or fluffy kittens. "You and I are like two peas in a pod. Nobody understands us. They stick us on a viewing platform and expect great things from us, when all we're good for is lying there, broken and useless. _I feel your pain_."

He hugged the shards close and then gasped irritably when one of the pieces cut his arm. Nevertheless, he began singing.

"Hush little Narsil, don't say a word. Aragorn's gonna buy you a messenger bird. And if that messenger bird won't sing, Aragorn's gonna buy you a Dunedein ring. If that Dunedein ring does break, Aragorn's gonna buy you a lembas cake, and if that lembas cake goes bad, Aragorn's gonna get really mad, and if that -"

He turned, still cradling the broken sword, and saw her staring at him. He leapt three feet into the air in surprise and the shards of Narsil fell all over the floor.

"I thought I asked you for some privacy!" he yelped, turning a shade of red that rivalled hers from earlier.

"I'm sorry!" she exclaimed. "But I didn't know you were going to start singing to the sword! I was surprised, is all."

"Well, that's my business if I sing to the sword. My business, not yours, and you had no right!" He started angrily gathering up shards of Narsil and replacing them violently on their table.

"I didn't mean to – I'm sorry that – oh, let me help you!" she said breathlessly, and stooped to pick up some shards herself.

"Be careful," Aragorn snapped.

"Ugh, look, I'll be gentle with your precious Narsil," Arwen said; she thought that he'd gone on about the blasted sword long enough.

"I meant you. _You_ should be careful that the pieces don't cut you," he said, not as harshly this time.

"Oh. I will."

There was silence for a moment as they knelt on the stone floor, searching for all of the shards, and finally they both seized the last one at the same time.

They looked at each other.

"Um, Lady Arwen," Aragorn began softly, "I heard about what you did today." Arwen wanted to look away, but couldn't quite make herself. "Your father was really mad," he went on, more gruffly this time. "You shouldn't do that to him."

"Well, next time I'll let you get killed," she retorted.

He grinned, looking pained. "Obviously I'm glad that you saved us. But… it's a dangerous world, Arwen."

She glared.

"Don't be like that. I just mean that it's dangerous out there for anyone, me included, so you should be more careful. What I'm saying is, essentially, I see your father's point of view."

Arwen pulled the shard out of his grasp and plonked it hard on the table. She whipped around to face Aragorn. He had stood up while she was turned away, and now found herself looking up at him.

"Look, Aragorn. _I_ was the one who got rid of the Ring Wraiths. _You_ were the one who would have been killed if not for me because you weren't even paying enough attention to see that they were there. If_anyone_ here needs to be more careful -"

He kissed her. Which shut her up. Unfortunately, his initial shock at himself and her initial shock in general, combined with their consequential fervour, resulted in their falling and knocking over the entire Narsil display with a colossal crash, and when they both stood up again, rather mortified, Narsil was little more than millions of tiny grains of metal.

"Um, I'll see you," Arwen spluttered, and rushed off. Aragorn was left to face the wrath of Elrond.

She caught sight of it as she hurried away. Aragorn had his hands raised in a defensive, quasi-soothing gesture, as Elrond shrieked, "YOU REALLY DON'T WANT TO BE KING _THAT_ BADLY?" But Arwen saw, even as she ran, that Aragorn was smiling a little bit.

**Eowyn**

"But where will you go?" she was asking, over and over again, as Eomer furiously stuffed things into his saddle bag.

"What does it matter, little sister? I might as well ride off a cliff, going by how much I've been able to help Rohan lately." He was enraged. She thought steam might rise from his head and from out of his ears at any moment.

"But Eomer!" She was swiftly getting to that point too. "Be reasonable!"

"Reasonable?" he yelled. "REASONABLE? Are you serious, Eowyn? You want me to be reasonable?"

"FOR MY SAKE, YES!" she all but screamed. He took a step back from her and frowned. "Eomer, you have to talk to me. Where are you going to go?"

Eomer sighed and threw himself on to his straw bed. "I don't know."

She sat down beside him. "You'll have to figure it out sooner or later. And you need to tell me, because I might have to come and join you."

"Don't even think that!" Eomer yelped, sitting up. "You're not nearly a woman yet, Eowyn -" At this she scoffed a bit. He frowned at her. "Are you of age yet? No. So then, you're not a woman yet. Do you think I want you leaving Rohan, especially in these dark times?"

"First of all, you're only one year older than me. And what about if Grima Wormtongue keeps his stalker routine up? And if Uncle doesn't get better? How much worse is the outside world, Eomer, than Rohan is today?"

Eomer sighed. "I'll return. As soon as I have the forces, I will return to Rohan and I'll take it from Wormtongue. It won't take long, little sister. You needn't worry about anything. And I'll… _speak_… to Wormtongue before I go."

Eowyn glared at him. "Why did you have to go and get banished?"

"Believe me, sister," he snarled good-naturedly, "I didn't do it on purpose. Have I got everything?"

"Could you fit your enormous ego in there?" she snapped, and then gave him a hug. "Be careful, brother. Come back safely."

"Take care of cousin while I'm gone." He pecked her on the cheek. "I'll see you soon."

She stood atop the tallest castle tower, ignoring Wormtongue who, despite the rather wholehearted warning he had received from Eomer just moments ago, was breathing heavily in the shadows not far behind her. She watched Eomer and his riders until she could see them no longer.

_How the hell old are all of these characters supposed to be? Apparently Eomer and Eowyn are teenagers according to this. Oh well, it's more fun that way. It's like a Disney movie._

_Also how come when the three women in Middle Earth show up everything gets uber serious?_


	10. In Which Aragorn Tracks a Spruce Tree

"Come here, you little maggoty maggots! I'll put a maggot hole in your maggot bellies! Maggots, maggoty maggoty maggots! That is my favourite word, can't you tell?" Dorothy the Uruk hissed as he pursued the two terrified hobbits deeper and deeper into the thick forest.

"You're just trying to be gross!" Merry retorted bravely, even if his voice did squeak a little bit. "Climb a tree, Pippin, he won't be expecting that, not in a forest!"

"Right!" Pippin agreed, and began to hunker up one. "Ooh, and when we're done we can harvest some leaves and -"

"Pip, this is not the time to be thinking about inhaling stuff!" Merry looked all around and nodded in satisfaction. "I knew it, he's gone."

Pippin peered down at him from the taller branches. "Right, but even so, Merry, wouldn't it be a good idea to climb more than one foot off the ground, just in case he shows up again?"

"Don't be stupid, Pippin, there's no – AAARGH!"

Dorothy had seized one of Merry's hairy ankles and was grinning in triumph.

"Now for some illuminating lectures on the mating habits of various indigenous species of maggots!" Dorothy declared menacingly, wielding a cruel iron fist of the Uruk.

"Oh no, anything but that! Anything! Even Gimli's Urban Legends and Boromir's Gondorian horn playing!" Merry cried despairingly.

Dorothy frowned at him. "No, you idiot, I'm going to kill and eat you."

"Oh thank God!" Merry shrieked.

"Merry!" Pippin yelled. "I'll save you! Just as soon as I figure out how I'm going to go about doing that!"

And then he noticed that he was clinging to a wooden nostril.

"UGH! WHAT IS THIS I DON'T EVEN!"

The giant wooden face blinked in shock and furrowed its wooden brow at Pippin. Then it peered down at the Uruk brandishing his iron fist at Merry.

A large wooden foot came up, and then down.

SQUELCH.

And that was the end of Dorothy. Millions wept that day.

"MERRY, RUN!" screamed Pippin as he flailed about in the thing's giant hand.

Merry just gaped, and was then scooped up.

"OW! You're crushing us!"

"Yes."

It took about an hour for the wooden mouth and tongue to work its way around that word.

"Well can you stop, it's been an hour!" Merry bellowed into its giant wooden eye.

"No."

"Why not?" Pippin asked, wincing, after another hour.

"Because you are little orcs, Buhhr-ahh-rooh-uhr."

"We're not orcs, we're Hobbits!" At this point, Merry and Pippin had pretty much given up on life – it had been twelve straight hours of the wooden hands tightly squeezing them as the walking, talking tree stomped deeper into the forest.

"Never heard of a Hobbit before."

"Hey. That one didn't take you forever to say," Pippin exclaimed, gazing up at the face.

"Well, I'm getting more used to speaking, ain't I? I can go faster now, can't I?"

"I suppose," Pippin agreed weakly, massaging every part of himself that he could reach. Merry was simply glaring daggers at the massive wooden creature. After a sideways, apologetic look at Merry, Pippin asked, "What are you… a spruce?"

The thing blinked disdainfully. "I am an Ent. An orc wouldn't know what an Ent is, of course."

"We're hobbits, not orcs!"

"I don't know if you are Hobbits, but the Wizard will. That's where we're headed."

"The Wizard?" Merry finally spoke up, looking alarmed. Pippin shot him a questioning look. "Saruman!" Merry hissed by way of explanation. "No, don't take us there, please! He'll kill us!"

"Don't be stupid, he doesn't even have a staff anymore," the Ent scoffed.

Merry and Pippin glanced at each other.

"Well, Pip," Merry began after a moment, "It's been nice… knowing you." He hastily looked away and brushed at his eyes.

"Yes, Merry, it was always a blast," Pippin agreed, his lip trembling and his eyes brimming.

"We had some good times," Merry sniffled.

"Yeah. We sure did. Like when we stole all of Farmer Maggot's crops and his family went hungry for the winter."

"Why the hell is everything 'maggot' with us? But yeah, that was good. Or the time when we locked Farmer Maggot in his outhouse and stole all of his crops and his family went hungry for the next winter."

"Or when we stole all of Farmer Maggot's crops while he was at the joint funeral for all of his children who had starved to death."

"Wow, you guys are the lousiest people I've ever met, orcs or not," the Ent said. "Ah, here we are!" and with that, he dumped them unceremoniously on the ground at the feet of a tall Wizard.

"_Merlin_?" asked Pippin in genuine awe, staring up into the familiar face.

"Well, at least now I can use that 'fool of a Took' line," Gandalf sighed, frowning down at the stupidity of Pippin.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, YOU KILLED THEM?" Aragorn was screaming in a field not too far off.

"I mean, we killed them," Eomer said patiently. "And then we made a bonfire and roasted marshmallows."

Legolas looked horrified. So did Gimli. But they were already too horrified to care that they were once again experiencing the same emotions.

"BUT THOSE WERE OUR FRIENDS!" Aragorn bellowed into Eomer's face. Eomer's horse, Ponce-de-Leon, chuffed and tossed his head magisterially, as if to suggest that Aragorn learn some manners.

His rider, however, snarled, "Those Uruks were your friends? Prepare to die, spies of Saruman!" As one, the entire company of Rohirim which was gathered behind their leader pointed their spears at Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli.

"Whoa, whoa," Aragorn exclaimed, alarmed, as he and his two companions were forced back to back in a small triangle. "There's no need for that!"

"Who are you?" demanded the Rohan prince fiercely, pointing his spear directly between Aragorn's eyes.

"Why don't you go ask your mother?" Gimli suggested loudly. Aragorn somehow found a way to contort himself so that he could avoid being impaled by Rohan spears while still throttling Gimli.

"I would cut off your head, dwarf, if it stood but a little higher from the ground," Eomer said disdainfully.

"You would die before your stroke fell!" Legolas said, suddenly holding his ridiculous bow taut, an arrow aimed at Eomer's face. A pom pom or two swung casually against his elven forehead.

"Oh pretty boy, you do care," snivelled Gimli.

"No, I'd just really have missed your ineptitude. It keeps things interesting."

Aragorn rolled his eyes and spoke directly to Eomer, who was now glaring at Legolas suspiciously. "We are friends of Rohan. I am Aragorn, son of who the hell cares, and my party and I were tracking the Uruks because they carried with them two Hobbits."

"Small, little things, one tenth the size of me," Gimli grunted anxiously.

"More like three quarters the size of you," Legolas scoffed.

"What are you talking about, I'm enormous!" Gimli declared proudly. Aragorn rolled his eyes again.

"No, they would have been only children to your eyes." Now he gazed up at Eomer hopefully.

Eomer looked at the ground. "It was dark, it would have been hard to distinguish friend from foe if they were not on horseback. We left no one alive."

Gimli punched himself in the face in his grief. "NO! Not the ones! With the hair! And the eating disorders!"

Eomer was very moved by this outburst, so he gave Aragorn and Legolas two horses, Marquis-de-Sade and Marco-Polo, and sent them away to look for the hobbits, offering his well wishes and an early apology for when they likely would discover the charred corpses.

Eowyn was wearing a beard.

And that beard was made out of her hair.

And it made her look not just a little bit like a blonde Confucius.

She was wearing said beard because while wearing it she could walk past Wormtongue and he wouldn't even spare her a second glance, and this for Eowyn was a most welcome and refreshing change of routine. Her hair was now but shoulder length, and she was wearing some of Eomer's clothes which he hadn't room for when he'd packed and gone.

Today she ducked past Hama, skirted around Gamling, slipped into the dining hall, in which, propped up on one of the long tables on top of a very comfortable bed made of an assortment of root vegetables, was her injured cousin Theodred.

"Morning, lad," Theodred murmured from where he lay, and he managed a weak, mocking smile.

"Shut up," she scolded him, but she hurried over anxiously. "Has there been any improvement?"

She fussed with his bandages as gently as she could, and did her best not to grimace when she saw the deep, angry looking wound in his chest. "Well," she said, searching for how she might end this sentence. "At least it's not, any… _more_… infected…"

Theodred sighed, and it sounded to Eowyn as though it took an inhuman amount of effort to do even that. "Eowyn, we both know how this is going to end -"

"Don't talk like that!" she hissed at him. "You're going to be fine!"

Theodred smiled sadly at her. She couldn't bear to look at that smile. It was too knowing, too kind. He was right, and she knew it. "Did you bring any more of that concoction thing, with that peasant weed in it?"

"Longbottom leaf," Eowyn told him. "And yes. Did it help?"

"A great deal," he said hopefully.

"Okay, I have some. But drink it slowly, Theodred, or it'll go to your head."

Theodred took the mixture from her and tossed it back. She frowned at him. He grinned weakly back. "Now I'll be able to sleep, at least," he explained. Eowyn rolled her eyes at him and pulled a chair over so that she could sit nearby.

He did eventually sleep, after they had laughed together at stories from their childhood with Eomer, and, grudgingly on her part, at her beard. The next morning Eowyn woke with a start, her back aching from sleeping in a wooden chair all night, and it was to find herself staring at Grima Wormtongue, whose face was inches from hers, and it was also to find that Theodred had passed sometime that night while they both had slept.

"Mmm, this is orc blood, want some?" Gimli called over his shoulder at Legolas and Aragorn. They had just followed some big hairy Hobbit footprints into Fangorn forest, and Gimli was tasting a congealed black substance on a leaf.

Legolas and Aragorn stared at him.

"Well, obviously it's orc blood, there's a squashed Uruk lying right next to that stuff, and why in the name of all that is Elvish would you put that stuff into your mouth?" Legolas asked him finally.

Gimli frowned. "Because it tastes good, duh."

Aragorn shook his head and stared back down at the enormous tracks that had taken the place of Merry's and Pippin's.

"It looks like a spruce. But spruces can't walk."

"Well then why would you know what spruce tracks look like?" Legolas demanded, annoyed by his companions' bizarreness.

"Look, I don't know, I'm just reading the signs." Aragorn stalked over to Gimli irritably and licked some orc blood.

Legolas's raised brow raised even higher, though, because his elf eyes caught a glimpse of something very dangerous. "Hey, morons! The Wizard approaches!"

Aragorn and Gimli stopped licking blood and stared at Legolas. "The Wizard?" Gimli asked.

"Do you mean Saruman?" Aragorn asked, gripping the handle of his sword.

"Must be!" Legolas hissed. The three of them quickly grouped together.

"Don't let him speak," Aragorn said, slowly unsheathing his blade. "He will put a spell on us."

A bright beam of light appeared between a clump of ancient trees, and Legolas shot an arrow at it, but it was sent spinning away. Aragorn swung his sword, but it burned and he dropped it, howling in agony. Gimli threw his shoe.

"OW! Mother-" The wizard within the light exclaimed furiously. Gimli grinned triumphantly. "You threw a _shoe_ at me? A _SHOE_? What's wrong with you?" Out of that bright, blue-hot light stalked Gandalf, glaring daggers at Gimli, whose triumphant grin evaporated instantly.

"Well, it worked, didn't it?" Gimli said humbly, scuffing the ground with his toe.

Legolas knelt reverently, and Aragorn fell gracelessly to his knees. "But you're supposed to be dead!" he shrieked.

"I _was_ dead, you idiot. I was killed a million jillion times! First by Saruman, then by the Balrog a bunch of times, then I was trampled to death by orcs a hundred times over, and let me tell you, resurrection is not an easy thing to do once!" Gandalf rubbed a big red lump on his forehead where Gimli's shoe had hit him.

"Oh, well, Gandalf, I love you so much!" and with that, Gimli flung himself at Gandalf's waist, which bowled him right over.

"Get off of me! And what's that you're calling me?" he asked, as he disentangled himself from Gimli and brushed his robes off. "Gandalf? Ah, yes, that was what they used to call me. Gandalf the Grey. That was my name."

"Yeah, pretty much. Except that one time Boromir told you that you were Gandalf the White," Aragorn said.

"I am Gandalf the Robin's Egg Blue."

"… What?" asked Aragorn.

_Because getting resurrected wins you ALL THE PROMOTIONS if you're a wizard. Also, the seriousness of Eowyn's part shall be attributed to Theodred's death, not to Eowyn being a lady, unlike the previous chapter. That is all._


	11. In Which Everyone Questions Everything

"So Merry and Pippin are okay?" Aragorn demanded of Gandalf.

"Yes, yes, they're fine. Actually, I don't know that I can really claim that they're fine. They're being carried around by a giant tree monster who has a habit of reciting avant-garde tree poetry and squeezing too hard. But I think they'll _survive_, at least. Most likely."

Aragorn glared at him. "Well, that's really comforting, thanks for that. Now can you tell us where exactly you're marching us off to?"

They were stomping through Fangorn, but they stayed very close to the forest's edge just to be safe. Gimli had heard horrible rumours about people being murdered by killer trees with teeth. Legolas was chuckling merrily to himself at Gimli's facial expression of pure terror even now.

"I'm taking you with me to Rohan. Theoden King has gone bonkers, and we have to go and snap him out of it."

Aragorn groaned and massaged his forehead irritably. "Oh no, not more stupid human cities. Can't we go back to Rivendell, or Lothlorian, or Mirkwood? We haven't been to Mirkwood in _ages_, let's go there!"

Gimli took a moment out of staring at the trees around him in terror to grunt distastefully.

Gandalf grinned at Aragorn. "What's there to do in Mirkwood? Eat fine food, drink fine drink, listen to fine music?"

"Yeah, you're right, let's go to Rohan. Eat slop, drink slop, and listen to countless ballads about cleaning stables," Aragorn snarked. Marquis-de-Sade beneath him tossed his head in silent but merry laughter.

"Well, above all things I need a horse. I have to leave you guys again," Gandalf explained.

"Again?" whined Gimli. "How many times have you abandoned us in the middle of nowhere?"

"As I recall," snarled Gandalf, "the only time I 'abandoned' you was when I tripped and you didn't help me up in time to get away from the Balrog."

"Oh yeah," Gimli said. "Good times."

"Look!" called Legolas suddenly. "A clearing!"

Before the companions stretched a magical field of magicalness.

"Ah, this would be a marvelous place to summon forth a silver horse running in slow motion," Gandalf declared, clasping his hands together in satisfaction. He whistled magically, and from the forest galloped a silver horse. In slow motion.

"This is Shadowfax," Gandalf told them five hours later. "He is the fastest horse in the whole of Middle Earth."

"Which is of course why he runs in slow motion all the time," Aragorn said, yawning. As he stood up, he brushed the dirt off of his pants.

"Well, no, that was just to be impressive," Gandalf replied. "All right then, let's be off."

"_Finally_," Gimli complained, reluctantly allowing Aragorn to hoist him onto Legolas's horse. "Let's just hope your magical horse actually picks up the pace for our journey."

But Shadowfax did not seem particularly interested in demonstrating his speed. In any case, it didn't matter: Rohan was only about ten minutes away as the slow motion horse rides.

What was left of the Fellowship dismounted outside the Rohan gate.

"Okay, Gandalf, what's the plan?" asked Aragorn out of the corner of his mouth. A bunch of perpetually unamused–looking guards were glaring down at them from atop the gate.

"We go in and we reasonably reason with Theoden. Then he'll see reason," Gandalf replied, tapping the gate with a stick Treebeard had given him in place of his malfunctioning staff.

"What do _you_ want, Gandalf Grehame?" snarled a guard.

"Oh, you know, just a little hospitality," Gandalf replied in his best "I'm an old man with scraggly legs oh won't someone take pity on me" voice.

"We were given very specific orders _not_ to let you in," the guard snapped.

"Are you sure it wasn't very specific orders _to_ let me in?" Gandalf suggested innocently.

"No, I'm quite sure it was _not_ to let you in."

"I rather think it was _to_ let me in."

"It was _not_ to let you in."

"It must have been a misunderstanding. I'm sure your superiors meant you _to_ let Gandalf Greyhame in, and not the other way round."

"Or maybe it was 'Not _to_ let Gandalf Greyhame in', you know, with a bit of a different emphasis?" piped up a second guard.

"Perhaps it was 'Not to _let_ Gandalf in'," posited a third.

"Or quite possibly 'Not to let _Gandalf_ in'; in which case you may as well let my companions in," Gandalf suggested.

"Actually, now that I think of it, the exact words weren't 'Not to let Gandalf Greyhame in' at all, because that wouldn't make sense, would it? I think it was really 'Don't you dare let bloody Gandalf Greyhame in if you value your pathetic bloody life', right?" The first guard explained.

"Are you sure it wasn't 'Don't _you_ dare let bloody Gandalf Greyhame in if _you_ value _your_ pathetic bloody life'; in which case one of the other guards might let me in, if the orders were only meant for you in particular. Perhaps your superior was worried about your ability to make me feel well at ease," Gandalf put forth, smiling at the now fuming first guard.

A fourth guard raised his hand shyly.

"Yes?" prompted Gandalf kindly.

"Maybe it was 'Don't you dare let _bloody_ Gandalf Greyhame in', so, I mean to say, well, you're not bloody, are you? So if you're not bloody we can let you in."

"Ah, an excellent suggestion," Gandalf said, making the fourth guard beam.

"Yes, I rather think that's what Wormtongue meant," the second guard declared.

"You soft-headed dopes," the first guard snapped. "Wormtongue _clearly_ meant, regardless of emphasis or lack thereof, that we were _not_ to let Gandalf Greyhame in."

"Oh, we're back to this, are we?" muttered Aragorn. He exchanged irritated glances with the three horses, Legolas, and Gimli.

"But perhaps he meant that you were _not_ to let Gandalf in at first, but after a lively debate you might just," Gandalf said cheerily.

"That might be so," the third guard agreed.

"Maybe," pondered the second guard, "It was, 'Don't you dare let bloody Gandalf Grehame in?' As in a question, as in, 'Don't you have the courage to let him in?' And that would suggest that we're meant to let him in –"

"No, you moron, then what about the rest of it?" the first guard snapped.

"What was the rest of it, then?"

"It was, 'if you value your pathetic bloody life'!"

"Maybe you missed the rest of it? He might have added, 'then you will indeed dare to let Gandalf Greyhame in'!"

"How could I have missed it, I was standing right here as he said it, and then he left!"

"Well maybe you weren't paying attention. Marigold Horsebreath was picking berries this morning out of gate, you were probably staring at her!"

"I do NOT stare at Marigold Horsebreath!"

"Yes you do! Constantly!"

"I do not!"

"Yes you do!"

"Do not!"

"Do to!"

"Do _not_!"

"Do _to_!"

"Are you sure it isn't, '_Do_ not' and '_Do_ to'?" Gandalf suggested helpfully.

"No, that wouldn't make any bloody sense, you bloody wizard!"

"I thought we had established that he _isn't_ bloody?" the fourth guard said, looking enormously confused.

"I actually thought that what we had established was that I'm not _bloody_," Gandalf replied.

"Oh, yes, that's right."

"Look, it doesn't matter," shouted the first guard, red in the face, as the second guard grinned at him and made kissing noises. "Wormtongue clearly meant, when he said 'Don't you dare let bloody Gandalf Greyhame in if you value your pathetic bloody life', that we were NOT to let Gandalf Greyhame in, and that's that."

"Or maybe he meant 'Look out, there's a giant bloody rock being lobbed at your head!'" suggested Aragorn, and thereafter there was a loud THUNK, and the first guard had toppled off of his gate post.

Legolas, Gimli, and the three horses grinned.

"Hey, yeah, maybe that _is_ what he meant!" said the third guard, looking down at the unconscious first guard.

"Mind opening the gate?" Aragorn called up to them.

"Oh, of course," the second guard said, and he unbolted it himself.

"Much obliged," Gandalf said to the guards as he and his companions passed them and continued on towards Theoden's castle.

* * *

"There, that'll show him," Sam panted.

"Sam, I thought we were tying _Gollum_ to the rock," Frodo said, frowning.

"Yes, we were," Sam replied, frowning back.

"So… why am _I _tied to the rock, and why is Gollum running away screaming with the ring and all of our food?"

"Uh – I don't know, Mr. Frodo."

What was also extremely unclear was how Frodo and Sam managed to get out of their predicament and hunt down and secure Gollum and the ring once again. It was probably Sting. Being magical. And blue, sometimes.

So Gollum glared up at them. "Evil hobbitses, tying poor Gollum to a rock and thieving his precious. The rope, made by nasty elves, it _burns _us, tricksy hobbits, tricksy and eviiiiiil," he muttered.

"Let's just kill him," Sam suggested. "Then we'd have some meat to go with our lembas bread."

"I thought we were vegetarians," Frodo said, confused.

"What? Oh – yeah, I think I remember something about that. Well, still. We could eat him, he looks tasty."

"Nasty hobbitses, if you eats us, Gollum will scream, and scream and scream, and all of the orcses will hear us and come for the precious."

"Well, he has you there," said Frodo, much relieved to have an excuse to not eat Gollum.

"No, wait, if we kill and eat him how can he scream, Mr. Frodo?"

"He's Gollum, Sam, it's just hard to explain. Okay, Mr. Gollum. We'll just leave you tied to this rock. Goodbye."

"No, no! You are the master of the precious! You are the master of Gollum. We promise to do what you wants, we swears. Take it off us!" He thrust the rope at Frodo.

"If we untie you, you'll cut our throats in the night!" Sam bellowed. "And I'm _hungry_, Mr. Frodo!"

"How do we know you won't go back on your word?" Frodo asked Gollum suspiciously.

"We will swear it on the precious!" Gollum pleaded.

"The ring is treacherous, it will hold you to your word."

"Wait, what?" said Sam. "Can you say that again, but slowly?"

"The ring is treacherous," Frodo repeated slowly. "It will hold you to your word."

Sam stared at him blankly. "What?"

"It's treacherous, it will hold him to his word."

"Okay, it's treacherous, yes, I get that. I don't really know how an inanimate object can be treacherous but –"

"Really?" Frodo snapped. "Really, Sam, after all of this time and effort, after Gandalf _died_ for this quest, you're going to question the ring's threat level?"

"I'm not saying that it's not a threat, Mr. Frodo, I'm just – yes, in Sauron's hands it's dangerous, but just on its own?"

"It talks to me, Sam, it _talks _to me. We've been through this."

"Frodo, that was Merry in his creepy voice. Anyway, the point is, okay, I'll give you that the ring is _treacherous_, but… because it's treacherous, it will hold Gollum to his word? Do these two statements really make sense to you put together?"

Frodo sighed. "Sam –"

"Mr. Frodo, I don't want to question your leadership capabilities, because you've done a great job so far, but all I'm saying is that the logic of that statement is maybe lacking a little bit."

"Sam. Gollum's run off again. With the ring and all of our food."

Sam looked around to see the former hobbit galloping away, cackling madly, ring thrust triumphantly into the sky in one skinny little fist.

"Bugger it."


End file.
